Of Faefolk & Fiends
by Tears of Reese
Summary: Bound together by Prophecy, their marriage begins a series of events that plunges all the Underground into Darkness. Do they have the strength to save their land, or will they succumb to the Nightmare as well? J/OC. Part 1 of 3.
1. Introduction

**Disclaimer:_ I do not claim to own Jareth and his Labyrinth_** _**full of goblins. Those belong to Jim Henson - I can only bow before him and cry "I'm not worthy!!" a la Wayne's World.**_

_**Nivienne, the Moonglade, and its residents, however, do belong to me.**_

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**Introduction**

The sun rose over the forest; its pale light glittered through the leafy canopy overhead. Slender golden beams touched down, reflecting off of trickling streams and sinking into the deep green velvety moss that coated the forest floor and swallowed all sounds into its soft embrace. A worn path, nearly invisible to those who did not know of its existence, wandered through the wood. It was mostly overgrown by ferns and flowers, with only scattered patches of bare clay or the occasional moss-covered cobblestone to betray its location to the wandering eye.

If a traveler could manage to follow the winding trail, he would eventually come to the heart of the forest where its magic is the strongest. This place is the home of the wood elves, whose duty it is to protect the forest from outsiders and unwelcome visitors.

The elves are a proud, secretive people, the most skilled hunters and trackers among the Fae, and deadly with bows and knives. They can move silently thru' their woodland home and blend in perfectly with whatever surrounds them. They have a strong bond with the animals that inhabit their lands and often join them in the hunt. As guardians of the forest, the Elves' magic is strong and is tied to the forest's living core.

Their main village lies at the heart of the great forest. Using their living magic, the first elves had shaped their dwellings within the living trees, hollowing out and expanding the trunks without killing the trees themselves. The first elves also embedded mythril and silver into the trees, and as the trees grew, the metals grew with the them and wound themselves into whorls and spirals along the trunks and thru' the branches, covering the glade where they made their homes with a protective magic, for the monsters and demons that inhabited the wild of the Deep Forest could not venture near such metals without fear of death.

As the elves' number increased they expanded their village into the earth itself. Using the same living magic, they fashioned large halls in the rocks and hills around the glade where they first made their homes. Everywhere they dwelt, they spun their protective web of mythril and silver, until their part of the forest glittered with their living magics. This is how their land came to be called The Kingdom of the Moonglade.

It was to this realm that Jareth the Goblin King journeyed, to complete a contract set forth many years ago: his betrothal to the youngest elven princess, Nivienne. He drummed his gloved fingers on the window of his carriage in quiet contemplation. Truth be told, he did not want this marriage; he had never even met the girl. His father had made the agreement with the Elvenking a few years before he was born. It had been part of the treaty between the two kingdoms; the Goblin King's heir would marry the most suitable of the Elvenking's daughters when the heir came of age, as a sign of good faith between the two kingdoms. Three Fae years after Jareth was born, the wood elves announced the birth of Nivienne. Their betrothal was made the next day.

Jareth's lip curled slightly upwards in a small sneer. From what he heard, Nivienne was a beautiful, but quiet girl. _Probably quiet because she is as empty-headed as every other princess in the Underground Realms_, he supposed. _And being the youngest daughter, she is probably spoiled as well_. Jareth sighed; he truly was dreading his upcoming wedding.


	2. In Which Our Characters Begin To Meet

**Disclaimer****: _Once again, Jim Henson owns any and all references to "Labyrinth"... I merely manipulate his characters_** **_when the mood strikes me_**.

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**Chapter 1**

Nivienne knelt in a small grove, a shallow wicker basket by her side. Already it was almost halfway filled with various herbs and plants. She carefully trimmed a few more sprigs off of the vine she was currently pruning and placed them in her basket, before moving off to search for the other plants she needed. As the village healer, she had found that she needed to restock the stores of the Glade of Healing for the new healer she had been training.

She sighed; she had heard that the Labyrinth was beautiful to those who were able to command it, but she was certain it would never hold the same charm for her as these majestic trees did. Even though she refused to admit it to anyone but herself, she was dreading her upcoming marriage. She knew Jareth by reputation only. He was known to be cold, arrogant, and even cruel at times. But a contract was a contract; she would marry him to keep her realm safe.

The young princess's feet had carried her to the Glade of Healing during her musings. It was a good-sized meadow surrounded by towering pines and maples, all laced with mythril and silver. Young maple saplings studded the inside of the glade; some were left to grow while others had been shaped into small rooms, each with a bed, a small chest, and some shelves. All had large openings facing four directions and mythril filigree inlaid in them with long gauzy silk hangings to cover the doorways. Some of the larger trees around the edge had been hollowed out and shaped into storerooms.

Nivienne stepped down between the roots of one of these and entered the dark, cool chamber inside, where she began preparing and hanging the herbs to dry. Hopefully she would have time to mix them into potions before her fiancé carted her off. Even though her replacement was more than capable, Nivienne wanted to leave a well-stocked store for her.

She had just finished these chores and was hanging up her basket when she heard frantic voices outside in the Glade. She hurried out into the afternoon sunlight to find a young elf ranger supported by two of his comrades. His upper leg was bleeding badly; already it had soaked through his bandage and blood was now leaking out around the edges and trickling down his leg. It was mixed with a strange, thick, black slime that oozed out of the wound. His contorted face was pale and shone with sweat as he struggled to breathe.

"Set him here, quickly!" commanded Nivienne as she rushed over to him.

There was no time to take him inside to one of the beds, so they laid him down on the soft grass at her feet. As she rolled up her sleeves, she inspected the wound. Her eyes widened in shock and fear.

"It looks like… a _Fiend_ wounded him."

His companions nodded grimly, eyes wide in fear for their friend.

"Bring me Silvervine, Kingsfoil, and a basin of warm water_. Now_! Quickly! We have little time!"

The two other rangers ran to get what she needed while Nivienne peeled off the blood soaked bandage and pressed her small palms to the open wound. It reeked of death and decay and she could feel the Fiend's poison eating away at the flesh around the gash.

The others returned with the herbs she'd demanded. She snatched them and pressed the Kingsfoil into the wound and sighed in relief as she felt it immediately begin to absorb the poison.

"Now, open his mouth and put this wad of Silvervine in it. Make_ sure_ he doesn't swallow it. It will keep him calm and dull the pain. It will also keep his body from absorbing any more poison from the wound."

The wounded elf's face relaxed slightly as the herbs took effect. Seeing this, Nivienne began to hum softly as she poured her healing magic into him, willing the poison to leave and the infection to fade. A pale aqua-green light began to emanate from her hands and spread through the elf's entire body. It rippled and swirled around them as Nivienne's healing trance deepened. She could feel the poison fleeing from her light and being absorbed by the dying Kingsfoil. But the elf had taken in more poison than she had anticipated and the Kingsfoil couldn't contain all of it. The herb began to flake off under her fingertips in black, oily, brittle chunks. And still, the poison kept coming.

With nowhere else to direct it, Nivienne began to take it into her own body, containing it in a shimmering cocoon of her living magic. It was so cold it burned as it slithered up her arms, into her body, trying to worm its way into her heart. She went even deeper into her trance, dividing her magic between herself and her patient, struggling to contain the poison within her own body while finishing curing the elf before her.

Her battle with death so consumed her, that she had no idea that a visitor was watching her in amazement.

...#-#-#-#-#-#...#-#-#-#-#-#...

Jareth's carriage pulled to a stop outside of the Elvenking's palace. As soon as he stepped out, he was ushered inside by an elf dressed in the green uniform of the Palace Guard.

The palace was a huge structure, fashioned out of an entire rocky hill at the far east end of the village. The rock had been shaped into polished white columns, wound with mythril, silver, and gold leaves, and textured to resemble the trees that surrounded the hill. A large set of wide, columned steps led into the Throne Room. It too was full of pillars, enchanted to give off a pearly white light from the mythril that wound up them. A deep green velvet carpet stretched from the marble dais all the way down the steps, ending right before it reached the outside.

On the dais sat Gwidon Shea-Aubra, the Elvenking. He was tall for an elf, and built like a warrior who had only just gone past his prime. His dark hair was only just beginning to whiten at the edges, but his bright gray eyes belied any signs of aging. He rose and greeted Jareth.

"Welcome, Goblin King." He said, bowing slightly, as to an equal. "I trust your journey went well."

"Quite." Returned Jareth, inclining his head with all the respect due to a fellow monarch. "Your elven guard was most appreciated."

The Elvenking began to say something, but was cut off by the sound of hurried boots entering the chamber. Both kings turned to see a muscular, dark haired elf with an old scar across one cheek stride in. His cape was ragged and his leather armor worn; recently dried blood dotted his arms and chest. He bowed hurriedly before speaking.

"My King, there is news."

"Obviously." murmured Jareth, with a raised eyebrow.

"Speak, Captain Aiden."

"My band of Rangers was attacked on our patrol through the Deep Forest. It seems the rumors of Fiends returning to the Deep were true. A small band of 'em set upon us on our return home. Several of my men were wounded, but only one is seriously injured. Two of the boys took 'im directly to the Glade of Healing."

The Elvenking's brows furrowed as he heard the news.

"I know not if my daughter is at the Glade, and she is the only one I know of who should handle such a wound besides myself or my wife. Captain, you shall come with me. My Lord Jareth, you are welcome to accompany us if you so choose."

Jareth inclined his head in assent. He too was worried. If Fiends had indeed reappeared, he needed to see what kind of damage they could cause so he could properly protect his lands.

The three men hurried to the Glade. There they found the group of rangers, some tending to their own small wounds (for all elves have a small knowledge of herbs and medicines) while most formed a loose ring in a corner of the Glade. Aiden pushed his way through, and while the Elvenking breathed a sigh of relief at the sight that met his eyes, Jareth was transfixed in shock.

A petite young woman was kneeling over a wounded elf. The sleeves of her silvery blue gown were spattered with blood and gore and her hands and wrists were red with it. A pale blue-green glow flowed in and out, between and around her and her patient. Her head was tilted back slightly, revealing a full mouth, high cheekbones and large eyes with thick, dark lashes. Those eyes were tightly shut in concentration (or pain, Jareth could not tell), and her dark, winged brows were drawn tight over the bridge of her nose. Her thick, black hair cascaded down her back in loose waves, while a few short strands stuck to her damp face.

After several long minutes, the girl opened her eyes, and turned to the men surrounding her.

"He will live. Please take him to one of the rooms to rest. I will finish tending him when he awakens."

As the rangers carried their comrade off murmuring their thanks, the girl swiped a hand across her forehead, leaving a red streak in its wake. Realizing what had happened, the girl shook her head slowly and began to wash her hands in the basin. As she raised her hands to rinse her face, Jareth noticed she was trembling quite fiercely. The Elvenking hurried over to her.

"You did well. Are you alright, my Nivienne?"

Jareth's eyes widened.

Before she could respond, the king knelt down and touched her face, only to jerk his hand back as if burned. All color drained from his face as he exclaimed,

"Fae Lords! What did you do, child?"

Large blue-green eyes looked up into his. Pale lips parted in a choking whisper.

"Ada…"

Nivienne collapsed in her father's arms before anyone could say another word.

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**A/N: This is my first time actually allowing people to see one of my little stories... if enough people show an interest, I'll post more... if not, I'll probably just delete it. Anyways, hope you enjoyed it; thanks for reading!**

** - Reese**


	3. In Which Fears Are Calmed

**_I still do not own Jareth and the Labyrinth_... not sure I'd want to, given all the trouble they can cause...**

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**Chapter 2**

Jareth leaned against the trunk of one of the slender tree-rooms, arms crossed over his chest, one foot casually propped up against the side of the tree. A few feet away, Aiden paced worriedly, shooting frequent glances towards the room that housed the princess, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

As soon Nivienne had fainted, her father had rushed her into one of the rooms and put her gently on the bed. Jareth had followed, but was reluctant to enter once he saw that the king had already entered a healing trance. So he had contented himself to wait outside the little hut until the king came out or he heard voices, telling him she was awake and he could enter without fear of interrupting anything.

Shortly after he had seen to his fallen ranger, the Captain had joined the Goblin King. And so the two Fae waited, the sound of Aiden's feet crunching over the wet grass the only noise in the silent glade. It was as if the Moonglade itself was holding its breath as well, waiting for news of its youngest princess.

The young king closed his eyes in thought, leaning his head back against the smooth bark of the tree. _So that was Nivienne_. Obviously she had more to her than other princesses. The fact that she could be within a ten feet of blood and not swoon or shriek proved that. Also, the sheer drive he had felt rolling off her in waves as she fought to heal that soldier, the force of her will…yes, she was different from the others.

His musings were interrupted by the sound of silk rustling softly at his side. The Elvenking emerged looking tired, but relieved. Both Jareth and Aiden hurried to his side, impatient for news about the petite girl inside.

"She will be fine… foolish child… such a foolish risk…" His voice trailed off. He moved dark eyes between Jareth, who raised one pale eyebrow in question, and Aiden, who was clenching his fists so tightly that his leather gloves were creaking.

"There was too much Fiend Poison… the Kingsfoil couldn't absorb it all, so she took it into her own body in order to keep that young man alive." The Elvenking began to explain, "She expended all her magic trying to keep it contained while she finished healing the boy. Once he was healed, her magic just gave out, and the poison began to eat at her body… It was a miracle that her magic held out as long as it did and that we were there to get her and heal her before it did any permanent damage."

Aiden let out sigh of relief while Jareth, more quiet in his thanks, merely allowed a small smile to soften his features. At that moment, a quiet breeze filled the glade and the sound of birds twittering could be heard once again as the forest voiced its relief at the news.

Jareth narrowed his mismatched eyes. So the girl was a bit of a risk-taker, eh? Well, that showed a bit of spirit on her part, which would be a pleasant relief compared to the "delicate" insipid princesses that vied for his attention despite the fact that he had been promised to another since birth. He only hoped that all her risks were not as potentially deadly as this one had been.

The sound of the king's voice jerked him back to reality.

"This will postpone the marriage ceremony though, as my daughter will be in need to rest… not that she'll accept that… she never accepts it when she falls ill…" Gwidon could not help but sigh.

"We'll be havin' to _force_ her to stay put until the healers see fit to release her." grumbled Aiden, but his relief was evident by the twinkle in his eyes. "That should prove… entertaining... at least…"

Jareth smirked in response.

"I sincerely hope so."


	4. In Which First Impressions Are Made

_**Jareth and his goblins and his labyrinth still belong to Jim Henson... I'm just borrowing them.**_

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**Chapter 3**

Nivienne woke to find herself tucked into one of the beds in the Glade of Healing. She ached all over but, upon examining herself, could feel no trace of the poison that had been wracking her body before she passed out. Looking to the side, she saw her blue gown draped over the small trunk by her bed. While she had been unconscious, one of the lesser healers must have cleaned it and changed her into the cream-colored linen shift and forest green dressing gown she now wore.

She leaned back into her plush pillows and sighed. Hopefully someone would come by soon, so she could see how the ranger was doing; she also needed to find out if one of the lesser healers had finished the ranger's treatment in her absence.

The rustle of fabric in the wind brought her out of her thoughts. Looking up, she saw a tall Fae, about her age step in holding a tray of food in his gloved hands. He wore a white poet's shirt, open at the chest, form fitting gray breeches, and black boots. He was tall and well built with wild, pale blond hair that appeared to have been whipped about by a fierce storm. His eyes glittered with something indefinable, obviously capable of great mirth, but also great coldness. Right now, they held something closer to mirth, and upon closer inspection, Nivienne saw that they were two different colors; one was a clear sky blue, while the other was a deep brown with streaks of green.

This Fae bowed slightly at the waist as he entered, a feat made slightly difficult by the tray laden with various breakfast foods.

"I caught one of the healers coming to give this to you. As I was going to see you anyway, I offered to take it while they went to care for the boy you healed yesterday."

Nivienne smiled shyly in thanks as she reached up and took the tray and inclined her head towards the trunk.

"I thank you… Would you care to sit? I'm afraid that the trunk is the closest thing to a chair in here."

The young man smiled in return - a lopsided smile... closer to a smirk, actually - and, after carefully moving her dress, sat nonchalantly on the trunk, balancing one ankle on the opposite knee. After a short silence, Nivienne glanced up.

" I assume by the fact that you said you were coming to see me, that you know my name… but I am afraid that I do not have the pleasure of knowing yours…"

The smirk returned as the young man answered her.

"My name is Jareth, the Goblin King. It is a pleasure, my dear Princess."

Nivienne's eyes widened slightly. This was her fiancé? She had not expected to see him unless her father brought her to him. She certainly would never have expected him to stoop to bring her some breakfast. Rumor had it that he was far above doing such menial things, yet the simple kindness of the gesture helped to assuage some of her doubts about her upcoming wedding. Oh, she had no doubt he was as arrogant as the rumors claimed; she could see it in the way he carried himself and in his smile, but the fact that he was capable of a little kindness reassured her somewhat.

While she was silently staring at him, Jareth took the opportunity to study her in return. She had mastered her initial surprise well, and now seemed to be contemplating him as she studied his face. Her narrowed eyes sparkled with a sharp intelligence, and Jareth noticed that the green of her dressing gown had caused them to become a deep forest green instead of the sea blue that they had been the day before. She was indeed very pretty, but still far too pale, he decided, and despite the fact that she was in bed, too weak to get up, she still had a mischievous spark about her. The rumors had been true, she was a quiet girl; he had sensed her shyness when he offered her her breakfast, yet, there was more to her than that. It was as if her outward stillness was hiding something stronger, something brighter.

At some point during their mutual contemplation of each other, the two Fae had locked eyes. Nivienne was the first to realize this; she turned her gaze, blushing at her rudeness. Jareth blinked and followed suit, but covered his small embarrassment with a smirk.

Nivienne's voice broke the progressively worsening silence

"How long are you… _we_… going to be remaining in the Moonglade?"

Something in her voice made him start. She sounded so hesitant and unsure of herself. Jareth realized how difficult it would be for her, leaving her home to be with someone she didn't even know for all eternity. He may be in the same position, but at least he would be in his home, a familiar environment. He smiled gently at her as he answered.

"I plan to stay at _least_ a week before the marriage even takes place." His mouth quirked up into another smirk, "After all, I would like to get to know my betrothed and her family at least _a little_ before I whisk her away."

Nivienne shook her head, rather amused at his droll tone. So began several hours of spirited conversation, ranging from light anecdotes to veiled insults, depending on the topic. The mood of the conversation shifted as rapidly as the topics did, but one thing remained the same: Jareth seemed determined to needle his fiancée and Nivienne was refusing to rise to the bait. She could sense his mounting frustration and bewilderment as she calmly deflected yet another one of his veiled barbs, not without a small smirk at his expense. Jareth noted this, and raised one winged brow in question.

"My _dear_ Goblin King," drawled Nivienne, chuckling, "I have grown up with four older brothers… it is difficult indeed to truly annoy me anymore."

Jareth threw back his head and laughed. She would be quite fun to spar with in the future, if she could always hold her own this well. He shook his head appreciatively.

"So you have caught me, m'lady. Very well, let us discontinue our little game… for the present." He shook his head again. "Tell me about these brothers of yours... they must be quite something…"

This launched them into a much more relaxed conversation as Nivienne related many of the pranks and jokes she and her brothers had pulled over the years. She soon had Jareth roaring with laughter, especially after describing a particular incident where she, her brothers, and her cousin had accidentally torn apart an ambassador's room.

"We were playing around, running and wrestling and the like, and we went into the nearest room, turned out all the lights and closed all the shutters... you know... to make it as dark as possible. It was a brawl, there really is no other term for it… fists and feet flying everywhere, and no one knew who was hitting whom…"

Nivienne paused for breath, eyes twinkling in amusement at the memory.

"Then came this horrific crash! After we got all the lights re-lit, we found we had broken an oil lamp. Luckily there was one very similar in my eldest brother's room, so we made the switch easily enough. The real problems started when we realized that we had also broken the bed…"

Jareth let out a bark of laughter.

"Oh, _do_ go on, Princess, this gets better every moment!"

"Well, it turns out that we had snapped one of the legs of the bed when we all jumped on it during our little game. We spent the rest of the evening smuggling in large, flat stones from the gardens to prop the bed up again. My cousin had to keep distracting the servants who kept coming by, while my brothers got the stones. My older sister and I stayed in the room and stood by the damaged leg, to hide it from view. Finally, when we'd gotten enough stones, my brothers held up the mattress while I stacked the stones where the shattered leg was (I was the smallest, you see, and the only one who could fit under the bed). It turned out that that room was being occupied by the Dwarven Ambassador!"

Jareth crowed in appreciation, tho' his eyes widened and he shook his head in wonder. Everyone in the Underground knew how easily dwarves got offended. A damaged room could be taken as an insult and cause a serious diplomatic crisis.

"The ambassador never noticed it, but the maids did the next day, after he left. They were _mortified_… my parents nearly banished us all when they found out…"

"Hardly true, my dear."

Both young Fae turned to see Nivienne's normally serious father standing in the doorway, wearing a slight smirk, very similar to the one that normally adorned Jareth's features. He smiled warmly at them both, pleased to see how well they seemed to be getting along.

"I just stopped to peek in on you, my daughter. How are you feeling?"

"Fine… I feel well enough to lea–"

The king held up a hand to silence her.

"The healers say that you need to stay in bed for at _least_ a week."

"But… I'm fine… I need to finish stocking the healing stores for the next healer, and–"

"You will _rest _until the healers let you go. And no attempts to sneak out like you did last time you were injured. Do I make myself _clear_, daughter?"

Nivienne and her father locked eyes. The king's voice had gone from playful to hard in a matter of seconds. Finally, at his increasingly stern look, Nivienne abruptly turned her head away, dropping her eyes to her blanket.

"Yes Father." She whispered.

Gwidon sighed, shaking his head at his youngest daughter's stubbornness. He knew that, since he had ordered her to stay abed, she would obey; but one look at her eyes told him she refused to like it. He smiled slightly. _Just like her mother_, he thought. He walked over and placed a light kiss on Nivienne's forehead.

"Hopefully, they'll let you up soon… the palace is too quiet without you."

With that, the Elvenking left. They could see him through the window, heading back to the palace, pausing only give some instructions to Aiden before he disappeared from sight.

Jareth turned back to Nivienne, only to find her staring fixedly at her empty cup. She looked up slowly, her eyes glazing over.

"They drugged it…" She whispered hoarsely.

Jareth smirked as he took the goblet from her limp hand and placed it on the tray. He gently pushed her back into her pillows and pulled the quilted coverlet up to her chin.

"The healers seem to know you all too well," he chuckled. "Sleep now, Princess. You need it."

Nivienne watched him as he took the tray and left quietly. Her mind was growing steadily fuzzier as the healers' sleeping draught took its complete effect. The smell of wood smoke and spices was the last sensation she had before a deep sleep took her.


	5. In Which Recovery Continues

_**I definitely don't own anything from Labyrinth... I do wish I had some Goblins at my command though... **_

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**Chapter 4**

Over the next few days, Nivienne and Jareth got to know each other during their daily visits. Jareth would come every morning with a tray of breakfast and they would spend the morning chatting about anything and everything. As the days wore on, their arguments became less frequent, as they learned what tones of voice or topics would set the other off. What arguments they did have were usually playful and ended quickly. Nivienne's father would stop by almost every afternoon to tell his daughter what had occurred during the day and Aiden would drop in frequently to look in on her and bring her news of the wounded ranger's recovery.

Often when Jareth would arrive, he would find a healer by Nivienne's bedside, asking her for advice on what to do with other patients. He could not help but smirk at this until Nivienne explained to him:

"All the healers are very competent… I wouldn't be leaving if they weren't. But I am the Mother Healer... that is, I am the most skilled. They often run their healing techniques by me only to see if I would change anything, not because they don't know what to do."

A few times when Jareth came with breakfast, he would find the young princess still asleep. On these rare occasions, he always noted that with her eyes closed and her guard down, she looked so much more delicate than she actually was. When she was awake, she was filled with the fire and determination that all Fae of her age and station possessed. Her strong will and passionate nature made her seem strong, unbreakable, but asleep, her face became softer, making her seem fragile, and in need of protection.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Despite Nivienne's initial reluctance to stay in bed and rest, even she could not deny that she needed it. By the end of the first week, it became obvious that the poison had had a greater effect on her than anyone had thought. She was still far too pale, though no longer deathly so, and still far too thin for anyone's liking.

The healers let her try and get up at the end of the first week, but her legs gave way beneath her before she had taken her first step. They tried to help her up, but she waved them away, and asked them to please leave her. Something in her quiet tone told them not to argue with her, although they forced her to promise to call them if she found she needed them. After she quietly agreed to their order, they left, shaking their heads at the stubbornness of their princess.

That was how Jareth found her, curled up dejectedly by the side of her bed, leaning her head against her mattress. Her dark hair draped around her face, hiding it from view, and fell to the floor, pooling with her pale nightdress around her knees and feet.

Without a word, he sat down next to her and waited until she spoke. Finally, she told him what happened and asked in a very small voice if he would be so kind as to help her back up into her bed.

That little incident taught them both a great deal about each other. Nivienne learned that Jareth could be trusted, for when he had helped her to bed, she had been expecting him to make at least one snide remark, yet he had been kind and gentle, with none of the arrogance that usually colored his tone. Jareth, on the other hand, learned that his wife-to-be despised appearing weak. She hated to have people see her having trouble doing simple things that she felt she should be able to do. Having someone help her get something out of reach was one thing, but she could not abide for all those healers to watch her as she struggled even to stand. Her pride would not allow it.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Nivienne's second week in bed was a little harder on everyone. She was growing steadily better under the healers' care, but at a much slower rate than she was happy with. Though she tried to handle it with her usual poise, her inability to walk had considerably lowered her spirits. To make matters worse, she was quickly getting very bored. Talking with Jareth was her only source of amusement, but he usually only stayed till the early afternoons. After that, she was left alone (to rest, they said) while he went and talked with her father and Captain Aiden, who, Jareth had found out later, was the Elvenking's nephew and Nivienne's oldest blood cousin.

Finally, after three days, Jareth commented on his fiancée's growing restlessness and ill humor.

"This is the side of Nivienne we warned you about when she first succumbed to the poison. She managed to accept being an invalid gracefully for a week, and I think your presence helped her greatly, but she is starting to revert back to her old ways." stated Gwidon.

"This behavior normally would have happened right from the start," explained Aiden. "Our youngest princess has _never_ taken to illness well… says she feels weak an' useless." He chuckled, "Last year we caught her in the storerooms, mixing minor healing potions to go with the men when they left on the hunt, an' she had a 104 degree fever. She was so dizzy she could hardly stand, an' yet she insisted on finishing the potions before she allowed the other healers to put her back in bed.

Jareth frowned.

"If the healers are as competent as she claims, why does she not allow them to take care of such things while she is ill?"

"Each healer has an assigned task that they go about during the day. While all are equipped to take over another's duties if need be, my little cousin does not hold with making 'em do her tasks… ever."

Gwidon sighed.

"Her elder sister is… rather spoiled…"

Aiden snorted derisively, muttering something along the lines of _royal pain in the arse_. Jareth tried unsuccessfully to suppress an amused grin behind his gloved hand.

"…and often uses her royal rank to get out of doing whatever task she does not wish to do." the Elvenking continued, rather embarrassedly, glaring at his nephew. Aiden merely grinned innocently back, showing all his slightly pointed teeth.

"Nivienne does not want to be thought of with the same contempt, so she has worked long and hard to earn the healers' trust and respect and prove that she is nothing like her sister. Hence why she will never give any of her tasks to the others, no matter the circumstance."

Jareth nodded in understanding. He and Aiden had become fast friends in the time he had been in the Moonglade, so he had been regaled with quite a few tales about the youngest princess and her antics. Thus, he could very easily picture his stubborn fiancée holding fast to such a standard, no matter what circumstance befell her. He was fast learning just how utterly headstrong she could be. She may be kind and gentle, placing others' needs before her own, but she was a member of the Fae Royalty, and she would bow to no one unless she chose to.

"It's the Wyldfae blood in her… makes her stubborn… just like her mother…" Gwidon murmured.

"It also gives her her strength, Uncle. She would have died otherwise."

Jareth cocked an eyebrow, a silent request for more information.

"You know that the Wyldfae possess the greatest amount of raw power, yes?"

Jareth inclined his head yes.

"Because her mother is a descendant of the ancient Wyldfae, Nivienne inherited some of that raw magic. Not as much as a pure Wyldfae, of course, but still much more than most of the Fae possess."

Gwidon looked gravely off into space, causing Aiden and Jareth to exchange worried glances as the Elvenking murmured softly,

"I only hope she inherited enough…"

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The next morning, Jareth brought Nivienne her tray of breakfast as he did every morning. The past three days, she had only poked at her food, instead of eating it. When Jareth had warned her that sulking would impede her recovery and keep her in bed longer, she had only glared at him, but made a half-hearted attempt to eat a little more. That had only resulted in slightly more savage poking at her food, with no greater amount being consumed. Jareth had made no further comment on her lack of appetite.

This morning was no different. Jareth watched as his betrothed picked listlessly at her food and pushed it around her plate in an attempt to make it look like she had eaten some of it. A small smirk spread across his face and his eyes began to twinkle as he stared down at Nivienne. Feeling his eyes on her, she looked up.

"Yes?"

"How would you like to get some fresh air?"

"Not allowed to. The healers say I'm still _too weak_." Nivienne all but snarled the last part and gave one of her eggs an especially vicious stab.

Jareth's eyes sparkled mischievously as he leaned in closer until their noses were nearly touching.

"Come on… we'll sneak out quietly… go out into the surrounding woods…. They won't even notice you're gone. The healers never come in until the late afternoon, and we'd be back by then."

"…But how are we getting outside, Jareth? It's not like we can just stroll out…"

His smirk widening, Jareth leaned down and scooped her up bridal style. As he adjusted his grip to ensure that he did not drop her, he noted that she was far too light. She had become pitifully thin because of the poison that had invaded her body and her lack of appetite these past few days had not helped matters much. He looked at her seriously.

"If we sneak out, you must promise to eat something… you've become far too weak… and this fasting of yours is not going to get you out of bed faster."

Surprised at his sudden seriousness, Nivienne just nodded and tightened her grip at the base of his neck. Jareth's smirk returned full force.

"If you do not… I shall have to speak to your cousin and tell him that you are sulking, and we wouldn't want that, would we, Pet?"

Nivienne grimaced.

"Aiden told you about the custard incident, didn't he?"

Jareth's laughter was positively evil as he grinned at his fiancée.

"It would seem our little angel has a bit of a crooked halo… prone to bouts of angst, are we?"

Nivienne rolled her eyes and swatted at Jareth's shoulder blades.

"Only when I'm sick and cooped up for long periods of time"

So their banter continued softly as Jareth snuck them, as quickly and quietly as a cat, to the edge of the Glade. There, amidst the large trees, Nivienne was surprised to find Aiden holding the reins of a large gray stallion and a large leather pack. Her cousin grinned as he affixed the pack to the horse's saddle.

Jareth gently placed Nivienne in the front of the saddle and swiftly mounted behind her. Taking the reins in one hand and wrapping the other firmly around Nivienne's waist, he looked down at Aiden, who winked as he stepped back from the horse.

"You owe me one, both of you. Your husband-to-be convinced me to help 'rescue' you for the day, little cousin. There's food an' drink in the pack. Just be sure to stay well within the Boundary an' be back before late afternoon. If my uncle asks about you, Jareth, I'll tell him you went to explore 'round the Moonglade."

Jareth grinned roguishly.

"No warnings about taking care of the lady and such?"

"That'll be her brothers' job at the wedding." Aiden's smile became slightly predatory, showing his canines. "'Course… I'll be helpin' 'em out a bit too."

Jareth merely grinned back, revealing his own slightly pointed teeth in return.

"If you boys are quite done, we should probably get going before one of the healers get suspicious." Nivienne said, trying to stifle her giggles at Jareth's rather uncomfortable look when Aiden fingered the hilt of one of his daggers with a sly wink at his cousin.

Jareth spurred the horse into a graceful canter, and he and Nivienne rode south into the forest. Warm sunlight trickled thru' the greenery overhead and a gentle breeze rushed along with them, stirring the leaves and filling the quiet wood with a quiet rustling. Unseen birds twittered in the bushes and the occasional dragonfly would whiz by to alight on one of the many bright spring flowers that adorned the trunks of silver-laced trees or sprouted in scattered patches around the hidden trail.

Nivienne leaned back against Jareth and closed her eyes in contentment. This was what she missed most when she was cooped up in bed for days on end. All elves had a strong bond with their forest home, but the Royal Family's bond was the most powerful. Being back in the forest after being trapped inside for so long was like finding a long lost friend, or having part of her soul returned to her. Her mouth turned upwards in a small smile as she let out a quiet sigh of happiness.

Jareth glanced down at the soft sound and couldn't help but smile. This was the most peaceful he had ever seen the elven princess while she was awake. Feeling her betrothed's eyes on her, Nivienne tilted her head back to smile up at him.

"Thank you." She whispered, and snuggled further back into his chest.

Jareth couldn't prevent his heart from jumping at this little gesture of affection. What _was_ it about this girl, he wondered, that affected him so? He'd barely been there ten days, and already her happiness had become very important to him. _Not that you will ever tell her that_, whispered an arrogant little voice in the back of his mind.

They rode into a little clearing surrounded by silver-laced willows with a small stream that trickled through it and meandered off into the forest. Jareth dismounted and gently helped his fiancée down. They spent the rest of the afternoon chatting amiably amidst the flowers that dotted the soft grass of the forest clearing's floor. Finally, Jareth decided that they had best be getting back to the Glade of Healing before it got too late. Their ride back was a quick and quiet one, with both young Fae just enjoying the forest scenery as it rushed past them.

Upon their return, Aiden took their horse and left to return it to the stables, but not before flashing a roguish grin at his cousin and throwing Jareth a wink. After a quick look around the Glade, Jareth managed to sneak Nivienne back to her bed without incident. He had just finished tucking her back in when the Elvenking entered.

"Just coming to check in on you, my daughter." He smiled. "You seem much improved… but then, the forest air has always done you worlds of good…"

Gwidon grinned at his daughter's shocked look and winked at Jareth. Chuckling, the older Fae returned to the castle, leaving two bewildered Fae in his wake.

After his initial shock wore off, Jareth began to chuckle and shake his head. His eyes filled with respect and amusement.

"The crafty old elf knew we were gone the entire time!" Here he shook his head again, "It has been a long time since one of my plots was discovered without my knowledge…" Jareth's sentence died away into more bemused chuckles.

Pausing in his musings, Jareth turned to Nivienne only to find her dozing softly. As he began to creep out, a small hand grabbed his and tugged him gently back down to the bedside.

"Thank you." She whispered and placed a small sleepy kiss on his cheek.

Jareth couldn't help the delighted smile that spread across his face as he stared at the now sleeping princess.

"You are quite welcome… my dearest Nivienne."

* * *

**A/N: Well, it seems that people are reading this... no reviews yet, though... sniffle... oh well, hope you enjoyed the latest installment.**

** - Reese**


	6. In Which We Celebrate a Marriage

**Nope... still have failed to acquire Henson's _Labyrinth_... ... ... bummer.**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Nivienne's recovery was complete by the end of her second week in bed. Although she was still a little bit pale, the healers pronounced her to be in otherwise perfect health and released her from the Glade of Healing. This came as no small relief to everyone involved, and Aiden gleefully reported that all the healers were grumbling about how _healers make the worst patients_.

"Although" he continued, with a grin at Jareth, "they say that _every_ time they have to take care of my young cousin… something about her being uncooperative…"

Jareth joined in with his friend's raucous laughter, while making a mental note to do everything in his power to make sure his future Queen stayed healthy. He did not relish a repeat of the past two weeks anytime soon.

Now that Nivienne was fully recovered, the postponed marriage feast could finally take place. The Elvenking said that the occasion was made all the more joyous because of his daughter's return to health and his nephew and sons' safe return from the Deep Forest.

So, the date was set, the preparations made, the invitations sent, and everyone's spirits were high as they awaited the great feast.

When the day itself arrived, Jareth had never seen the elves so busy. The whole village awoke at dawn to begin the preparations. The palace had been thoroughly cleaned during the preceding days, and now, many servants busied themselves setting up tables and chairs and decorating the Great Hall. Some hung flowers in great garlands on the walls to wind down pillars interwoven with the gold, silver, and precious stones that also adorned the Hall. Other servants hung great banners representing each nation that was to be attending from the great vaulted ceiling. The Palace fairly gleamed in splendor for the evening.

Large roasting pits were being constantly tended as the elves prepared the many dishes they were to have that night. Roast venison, hare, pheasant, and even a wild boar sizzled over hot coals, wafting their savory smells into the air to mingle with the scents of fresh baking breads and pastries. Fruits and vegetables were brought in from the elven croplands and the finest wines and ales were rolled up from the palace cellars. Cheeses, nuts, and all kinds of sweetmeats adorned the many tables that lined the Great Hall. Everywhere there was a flurry of activity as servants, chefs, and royalty alike made ready for the momentous evening.

Wishing to escape the chaos, Jareth stayed mostly in his rooms. As the afternoon wore on, a very harried looking Aiden joined him. Muffled curses and the sound of fleeing boots grew steadily louder before the door burst open revealing a very disgruntled elf. With a panicked look behind him, the elven Captain shut the door quickly and slumped against it wearily. Jareth cocked an amused eyebrow at his friend and opened his mouth to ask what on earth was the matter, but was cut off by Aiden's frantic shushing motions and wild eye rolling. The sound of swiftly running feet and muffled grumbles went past the door and faded down the hall. Aiden expelled a long breath of relief.

"That damned high-an'-mighty tailor would have had me up in ruffles an' lace an' who knows _what_ else…" Groaned the burly elf, running his hands through his ruffled dark hair.

Jareth's smirk widened as he burst into roaring laughter at the sheer terror in Aiden's eyes. Aiden glared and wagged a finger at his friend, who was currently doubled over and gripping his ribs as his laughter continued.

"It's not funny! That sissy, pansy-arsed elf had me cornered!" Aiden furiously ripped a frilly green beret off his head and waved it in front of Jareth's nose. "There is no way Above or Below I am gonna wear _that_! Or any of his other fancy-pantsed creations, fashion and rank be scorched!"

Jareth completely lost what little remained of his composure when he caught sight of the hat. Many minutes passed before he had calmed down enough to speak to his friend.

"Why _ever_ not? The green matches your eyes–"

He was cut off by said frilly hat being thrown in his face by the irate Captain, who remained leaning against the wall by the door smirking at Jareth's affronted look.

"You wear it then, I don't mind." Aiden's eyes held a wicked gleam.

"I say we _burn_ the wretched thing"

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Finally, it came time for the feast to begin. Jareth made his way down the hallway alone to the Great Hall. It was tradition for the groom to be presented to the guests before the bride, so it would be some time before Nivienne arrived. As per another Fae tradition, Jareth was not allowed to see her until the ceremony, so he had not laid eyes on her since her release from the Glade.

He approached the large oaken doors that separated him from the rest of the guests in the Hall and took a steadying breath, stepping into his royal persona of the Goblin King. It would not do to show any emotion that could be construed as weakness by the other Fae rulers. With his mask firmly in place, the Goblin King pushed open the great twin doors and strode in with all the arrogance and regality fitting a Fae of his station and rank.

"Announcing His Royal Highness, Jareth Aes-Sidhe, Goblin King and Ruler of the Labyrinth of Dreams!"

All eyes turned to look upon him as he strode down the wide staircase towards the Elvenking's dais. The Goblin King wore a heavy gold circlet studded with sapphires and was dressed in the darkest of blues. His tunic was open at the chest, displaying the Crest of Office that hung around his neck. The tunic went down to his mid-thigh and was cinched in at the waist by a wide belt of woven gold and sapphires. His gloves, breeches and boots were pitch black, as was his cape, though the inside was lined with the same dark blue material as his tunic. The entire outfit gave him a rather intimidating appearance while showing off his lean, muscular build. More than one lady swooned or was overcome with jealousy at the sight. The Goblin King noticed, and did not bother to hide his smirk as he cut a sweeping bow before the Elvenking's dais.

The Elvenking sat on an ornate throne made of mythril and studded with emeralds. Next to it was a slightly smaller empty one of silver and pearls. Two ornate chairs of polished oak inlaid with mythril and silver sat to the left of the thrones. The Elvenking too wore black breeches and boots. However, his tunic was a deep burgundy and was embroidered with golden leaves, providing a stark contrast for the Goblin King's regalia.

The Elvenking stood and clasped arms with the Goblin King and then embraced him. Behind him stood the four Elven princes. All of them were dressed in matching deep green tunics, brown boots and breeches, and had the golden tan and ruddy complexion that revealed a life spent mostly out of doors. Like their cousin, Aiden, they were all well- muscled and carried ceremonial daggers on their hips. One by one, they came down and clasped arms with their new brother. As the princes stepped back into the crowd, the announcer cried out,

"Her Royal Majesty, Lessa Wyldfae, Elvenqueen and Lady of the Forest! Her Royal Highness, Nivienne Shea-Sidhe, Lady of Water and Wind and Mother Healer of the Glade!"

Lessa, the Elvenqueen, was a slender Fae of medium height. Like her daughter, she had sparkling blue-green eyes and a full mouth. Her crimson gown was hemmed with gold and a slender circlet of golden flowers crowned her deep auburn hair. She glided regally to the vacant throne next to her husband and embraced the Goblin King. He bowed and kissed the knuckles of her hand.

As stunning as the Elvenqueen was, her beauty faded when Jareth caught sight of his bride. Nivienne was dressed from head to toe in shimmering white. Her pearly gown draped over her slender form, accentuating her curves without being clingy. The neck was off the shoulder and beaded with glittering pearls and opals. A thin coronet of spun silver, studded with pearl flowers attached her sheer veil to her dark hair; it was made of a sheer silvery lace, which also adorned the sleeves and train of her dress. In her hands was a bouquet of white roses, lilies, and silver moonflowers: their green leaves and tendrils were the only bright color in the entire ensemble, and brought out Nivienne's bright blue-green eyes.

Nivienne gracefully made her way down the stairs and up to the dais. Murmurs rose from the gathered Fae royalty as they watched her glide down the Great Hall. The Fae princess curtsied gracefully to her parents and turned to face the Goblin King. Her father moved in between them and joined their hands, turning them as he did so to face the Hall. Raising his voice, the Elvenking addressed the crowd.

"My friends, you are gathered here to witness the joining of two lands–" a smattering of polite applause interrupted him. "–by a marriage between my daughter and the Goblin King. May their union be forever blessed!"

Real applause broke in this time as the Elvenking turned to the couple.

"Bring forth the rings."

Jareth and Nivienne both held out their wedding bands. Jareth quietly slipped his onto Nivienne's left hand. It was a dainty thing, silver, fashioned to look like entwining vines and leaves, meeting on top of her finger with three small flowers fashioned out of cut opals. The ring that Nivienne gave to her husband was slightly heavier, a single gold band engraved with patterns that formed a swirling maze across its smooth surface.

As Nivienne slipped the ring onto Jareth's finger, a bright white-gold glow encompassed their joined hands and twined up their arms to their hearts. The Elvenqueen placed her hand in the heart of the glow and began to chant.

**_"Bound by Stars and Moon and Sun,__  
Their Royal Union has begun.  
__Witnessed now by Earth and Skies,  
The birth of Love that never dies."_**

The glow slowly faded away and the Elvenqueen removed her hand. Stepping back, she loudly proclaimed,

"Their hearts are Bound and the Blessing is given! All hail the Goblin King & his new Queen!"

All the Fae rose and cheered as the two new Monarchs took their seats next to the Elvenking and queen on the dais. The ceremony had ended; it was time for the feast to begin.

As they all ate, the other Fae monarchs took turns presenting their gifts to the newlyweds. Many wondrous things were added to the Labyrinth's treasury that night: two chests, beautifully fashioned out of dark pine and skillfully enameled to depict scenes from the high Northern Mountains, from the Dwarves (each chest was filled with perfectly cut gems of all sizes and colors), an ornately carved flute from the Satyrs of the Southern Plains, and from the Centaurs, a large basket of healing herbs and two scrolls of their Sacred Lore (One scroll contained a map of the stars and their affects on dreams for Jareth, while Nivienne's was of Herblore and the recipes for various potions and salves). There were many others, (thankfully, Jareth had ordered one of his goblins to hide away unseen to make a list of which nation had given what gift, lest they forget later and offend one of their fellow monarchs) but the gift that touched Nivienne the most was the one from her parents. After all the other nations had given their gifts and paid their respects, the Elven rulers rose and presented their daughter and her husband with a willow sapling, laced with mythril and silver.

"A symbol of the alliance between our two lands," said Gwidon. "May it ever thrive."

Jareth lifted his goblet at the Elvenking's statement.

"May it ever thrive." he agreed.

At last, the feasting ended and the tables were moved against the walls so that the dancing could begin. Jareth led his new bride out onto the floor and led her in a gentle waltz, as was tradition. Soon many of the other Fae joined them, and the Great Hall was filled with the sounds of music and swirling colors as the many couples whirled around the floor.

After the first dance was over, Jareth found himself surrounded by Nivienne's four brothers and her father. With an amused glance at his sons and rather uncomfortable looking son-in-law, the Elvenking offered Nivienne his arm and led her out, once again, to the floor, leaving Jareth alone with his new relatives. Before the princes could begin, Aiden materialized out from the crowd and grinned.

"You weren't going to start without me, were you?" He chuckled.

"Of course not, cousin." said the oldest prince, a well-built elf with auburn hair and gray eyes.

"Now that you're here…" cut in the second prince,

"…we can begin properly." finished the third, with a wicked smile. (He and the second prince were obviously twins. Both had dark, almost black, unruly hair and bright blue eyes.)

The fourth prince (a slender young elf with dark red hair that was streaked with bronze and green-gray eyes by the name of Tyr) just rolled his eyes at his brothers' antics and grinned rather menacingly.

"If we hear that our baby sister is at all unhappy with you–"

"–for any reason whatsoever..." grinned Aiden.

"We will be there…" stated the eldest.

"…_Immediately_…" chorused the twins.

"…to see that the problem is fixed…"

Here the twins cracked their knuckles, while Aiden and Alec (the oldest prince) fingered their daggers lovingly. Tyr just grinned, showing his canines in a feral smile.

"And… it will be fixed… _our way_." the five intoned, eyes glittering with an odd mixture of deadly seriousness and wicked mirth.

Jareth stared at them for a few seconds before he began to chuckle. The five elves soon joined him and Alec clapped him on the shoulder.

"Welcome to the family, my brother."

Nivienne threaded her way through the dancers towards her husband, only to find him leaning nonchalantly against one of the tables, talking with her brothers and Aiden. Coming up to them, she stood on her toes and gave each of her brothers a quick peck on the cheek.

"Are you boys behaving?" she asked. Without really thinking, she walked over to Jareth and leaned tiredly against him. Absently, he wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Oh…. Just making sure your husband here knows all the rules…" One of the twins stated with an aire of exaggerated innocence.

Nivienne narrowed her eyes.

"Gavyn…" she sighed, "What did you do?"

"We merely told him what would befall him if anything happened to you…" Gavyn replied, causing his sister to role her eyes, her slight frame shaking as she chucked softly.

Jareth glanced down at his amused wife. He had never really noticed how tiny she actually was. Standing, her head didn't even brush his shoulders. Her strong will and fiery personality usually disguised her small stature well. A small smile graced his features; he could see why her brothers and her cousin were so protective of her.

Gavyn suddenly nudged his twin with his elbow and jerked his head over his shoulder. The other boy looked up quickly and promptly gagged on his drink.

"Hellfires Below…" he groaned, "Brace yourselves lads… it's our _beloved_ eldest sister…"

"Be nice, Cayden," Nivienne chided her brother, though Jareth could feel his wife's frame tense. "Morgaine is still our sister."

"More's the pity." Cayden muttered as he turned to refill his drink.

At that point, a young woman with waist length blond hair sauntered up. Her bronze colored gown was low cut and hugged every curve before flaring off into a long train in the back. Her deep green eyes glittered slightly as she reached for a glass of wine.

"My congratulations, _little sister_." The older girl said stiffly. "You have been honored indeed." Before anyone could react, she grabbed Nivienne's arm and yanked her close. "An honor that should have been _mine_!" she hissed into her ear, "_I_ am the eldest and–!"

Jareth's hand closed like a vice around Morgaine's wrist. He gave it a sharp squeeze, pressing tendon to bone and forcing her to release her younger sister.

"You _will_ release my wife…" he growled menacingly, before loosing his grip on her wrist. Morgaine stepped back hastily. Her eyes narrowed before she stormed off, skirts flaring out behind her.

He turned to see to his wife. Nivienne's face was set in an indifferent mask as she stood, erect and proud. No shred of weakness was visible through her regal façade. Only the slight quiver of her shoulders and the tight set of her mouth betrayed her hurt and anger. Jareth wrapped his arm around her waist again and felt her relax just slightly.

Tyr looked at Jareth with new respect.

"You'll do, lad… you'll do." He smiled.

All the boys smiled and exchanged knowing looks. They knew now that they could safely entrust their Nivienne to this foreign king. Aiden smirked as he swirled his wine in his goblet.

"Looks like Morgaine finally found something that her royal rank couldn't get her." His roguish grin was matched only by the wicked twinkle in his eyes as he stared after his arrogant cousin.

"This is why you were betrothed to Nivienne… Ada truly wanted this alliance to work out." Alec said. "He respects you too much to pair you with… _that_."

"And I thank him for his kind thoughtfulness…" Jareth drawled, vainly attempting to hide his distaste at the thought of being bound to one such as Morgaine for eternity.

The rest of the night passed without incident. Shortly after Morgaine's little scene, they saw Gwidon sternly take her aside and speak to her. This caused the twins and Aiden no end of mirth, and even Nivienne had to chuckle.

When she wasn't dancing with Jareth, Aiden, or one of her brothers, Nivienne was attempting to feign interest in the many conversations around her. Finally, sensing her fatigue, the boys took her and escaped to a little nook off to the side of the Great Hall. It consisted of a small table surrounded by cushions and padded couches; gauzy colorful curtains covered the entrance.

There, in relative privacy, her brothers kept them all entertained with stories of their patrols through the forests while Aiden added bits and pieces to the stories when he felt that one of the brothers had missed something. Jareth, in return, gave them detailed descriptions of certain spots in the Labyrinth and a few funny stories about the goblins who lived in it. Gavyn and Aiden showed an especially keen interest in The Bog of Eternal Stench, murmuring something about Morgaine and the need for a bath.

After the final dance, the ball began to wind down. Once again, Jareth and Nivienne stood and said goodbye to the other Fae Lords as each one left the Hall. Finally, the last visiting monarch left, and the newlyweds were left to themselves. Bidding the Royal Family good night, Jareth gently led his bride down the hall to their chambers.


	7. In Which Our Newlyweds Learn Some Things

_**Still**_** deprived of Henson's _Labyrinth_... maybe I'll watch it this weekend...**

* * *

Chapter 6

The two of them slowly made their way to the luxurious guest chamber that had been given to Jareth for the duration of his stay. It was a large room, with deep mahogany paneling and furniture. A great bed with beautiful dark teal bedclothes stood in the middle across from a large fireplace. An opening on the far wall led out to a balcony overlooking the gardens that surrounded a silvery lake.

Almost as soon as they entered, Jareth's goblin scribe appeared with a muffled pop. He was a gray green color and had a moon face with round cat eyes and a chubby little body with long, scaly arms and short little legs. A pair of bent, wire spectacles perched haphazardly on his little pug nose and a familiar green beret dangled off the side of his head.

"Is for King!" He squeaked, "Happy day for King! Wert happy too!"

With a wide snaggle-toothed grin, the little creature handed his king a scroll and disappeared with another muffled pop.

Nivienne stared at the spot where Wert used to be, one corner of her mouth twitching upwards in a small smile. Jareth watched her reaction carefully, wondering what she thought of his subjects. It had not occurred to him that she might find them repulsive, and now he couldn't help but worry about what she would think.

"That was a Goblin?"

"Yes, one of the smaller ones…"

Nivienne's smile grew a little wider and she cocked her head to one side.

"He was kind of cute… in an odd way."

Jareth grinned at her response.

"They are good little creatures… very loyal, tho' a tad simple minded… and very mischievous…"

"Just like my brothers, then." Nivienne couldn't help but smile.

She walked over to the bed and sat down, kicking off her satin slippers as she did so. She gently removed her veil and coronet, carefully pulling combs and pins out of her hair, and put them neatly on the little bedside table by her shoes. A light thud caused her to look over to where her husband was standing.

Jareth had stripped out of everything save his black breeches and boots. All his wedding finery lay in a heap in a far corner of the room. One boot landed on the pile with a soft thump, with its mate following close behind. Once they had been added to the pile, Jareth materialized one of his crystals and tossed it lazily at the mound. With a slight puff of glitter, the mess disappeared.

Nivienne blushed slightly at the sight of her bare-chested husband. He had a good physique, and she felt her heart speed up slightly at the sight of him. Quickly, she looked down at her hands, trying to hide her girlish response.

Jareth could not help the amused smile that crept across his face as he noticed her shyness. He quietly walked over to the bed and lifted her chin with one hand, while softly beginning to play with her hair with the other. Blue-green eyes met mismatched blue and brown as Jareth slowly drew his bride into a gentle kiss. Hesitantly, Nivienne wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him a bit more. Hands moved from her hair to her back, stroking her shoulders and neck, sliding down to settle around her waist and hips as the kiss deepened and grew more passionate.

A soft night breeze rippled across the lake, blowing the sweet scent of flowers into the room and, over the trees, a full silver-white moon rose, smiling down on the forest, illuminating the bedchamber with her cool glow as the Goblin King became one with his bride.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Morning came, and with it, the warm early sunlight which poured into the bedchamber, casting its warm glow on two sleeping Fae. Jareth was lying on his side, one bare arm draped over his bride's waist, hugging her close to him, the other arm splayed out across the bed under her neck. Nivienne nestled against him, her head resting on Jareth's lower shoulder, arms curled upwards, palms resting against his chest. Their soft nest of blankets tangled around their hips and legs and snaked up to partially cover their shoulders.

A warm breeze skipped through the forest and over the lake carrying a single silver Moonflower in its wake. It was this little flower's feather-light touch against his cheek that woke the Goblin King. Brushing the flower off his face, Jareth blinked a few times as he shook the sleep out of his eyes. The sun streaming in through the balcony doorway warmed his back and a lazy, contented smile spread across his face as he looked down at the petite Fae girl curled against his chest. Nivienne was still fast asleep; her dark hair spread across the pillows and draped over her bare shoulders and covering her chest. Tenderly, Jareth moved one wavy strand from across the bridge of her nose and tucked it behind her ear.

At his gentle touch, Nivienne's eyes fluttered open. Jareth felt her shift slightly under the covers as she stretched languidly. Slowly she brought her eyes up to meet his and gently brushed a finger across his jaw. Jareth smiled warmly, unable to keep the wide grin from overtaking his face. Blushing, Nivienne smiled back, and began to turn her face away, but her husband was too fast for her. Cupping her face in his hands, he swept her back in loving kiss. Once they broke apart, he continued to hold her, wrapping his arms loosely around her waist.

"Good morning, Love." He smiled, eyes twinkling wickedly down at his still blushing wife.

"Mmmmmm…. 'Morning, my husband." Nivienne sighed contentedly before placing a chaste kiss on Jareth's forehead.

Squirming free of Jareth's embrace, Nivienne slid to the edge of the bed and retrieved a white silken shift and gauzy silver dressing gown from where they were draped over the foot of the bed. Slipping the shift on over her head and tying the robe's sash, she looked over at Jareth, who was following her example and pulling on a pair of loose black silk pants.

A sudden pop and muffled giggling interrupted the morning peace. Nivienne looked over to see two pudgy goblin hands grasping at the foot of the bed. A round goblin face soon joined them as Wert hauled himself onto the bed. With a bow and a toothy grin at his monarchs, the little goblin turned and leaned over the side of the bed. Nivienne peeked over as well, craning her neck to see over the edge from her position on the bed. She couldn't help but chuckle when she saw another little goblin struggling to lift a heavily laden breakfast tray into Wert's waiting paws. She gently lifted the tray out of the goblins' grasp before they dropped it and set it in between her and her husband. The other little goblin, a very spindly, lanky fellow, no higher than her knee, with little horns behind his big, floppy ears, hauled himself onto the bed to join Wert and his king and queen. Loping over to Nivienne, the little creature bowed clumsily and grinned up at her.

"Hello, Pretty Majesty! I is being called Snerb… We's be bringing you and King breakfast!"

"Why, thank you, Snerb." smiled Nivienne, trying not to laugh at the little goblin's enthusiasm, "That was very thoughtful of both of you."

Wert and Snerb beamed with pride at the compliment and nestled down at the foot of the bed to watch Nivienne adoringly as she uncovered the breakfast tray and began spooning out porridge mixed with fruit slices and nuts into two silver bowls for herself and her husband. The little goblins became even more enraptured when she gave them each a slice of fruit and a little bowl of cream to share.

Jareth sat on his side of the bed, watching as Nivienne smiled and patted the little goblins on the head. Her reaction to his subjects pleased him, as did her kind treatment of them. It was obvious that the creatures were smitten with her, and Jareth had no doubt that Snerb's nickname of "Pretty Majesty" would become Nivienne's official name among the rest of the goblins before nightfall.

As soon as the goblins had finished their treat, they bowed to their monarchs once more and disappeared with identical pops, but not before shooting a few more adoring glances at their new queen. Jareth smirked as he picked up his bowl of porridge and mixed some cream into it.

"You will spoil them rotten, doing that, you know." He said with a smile.

"They almost remind me of puppies, or very small children…. They really are rather adorable, in their own way," returned his wife.

"They are a lot like toddlers. They have a knack for getting into trouble, and I assure you, Pet, after you live with them for about a month, you won't find them so 'adorable', as you so put it."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The first day after the wedding, Gwidon and Lessa called the newlyweds into the castle library for a private chat. Pulling up four overstuffed green chairs around a low oak table, the Elven monarchs conjured some fresh spring fruit and a jug of light honeyed mead and gestured for Jareth and their daughter to take a seat. Nonchalantly, Jareth leaned back in his chair and pulled Nivienne onto his lap as she walked by to go to her seat. Lessa and Gwidon exchanged amused glances as they watched Nivienne blush and smile softly as she settled across her husband's legs. Jareth merely smirked and casually wrapped his arms around his wife's waist and proceeded to fiddle with her fingers as Lessa began to speak.

"We thought it best to explain the Marriage Bond to the two of you before you left…" The Elvenqueen began.

"That would be that bright light that engulfed us during the Blessing, yes?" drawled Jareth, glancing up at his in-laws. "I was wondering about that…"

"That Bond is a magic older than Time itself." said Gwidon gravely. "It connects the two of you to each other, heart and soul."

"You will never be able to love another now and you will always be able to sense when the other is near," continued Lessa, "but there are some other, less pleasant parts as well."

Nivienne looked at her mother with a raised eyebrow and Jareth stopped playing with his wife's fingertips, finally giving the elven rulers his full attention. Lessa resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the younger pair in front of her as she continued.

"If you two have a fight or disagreement, the Bond will cause you both to feel great distress and anxiety until it is resolved; this gets worse if one of you leaves the other while the conflict is still in the air."

"It will also let you know if the other is in danger by much the same means…" finished Gwidon.

"A useful safeguard…" drawled Jareth, shifting under Nivienne.

Lessa couldn't help but chuckle at her arrogant son-in-law as he helped himself to some mead and offered his wife some fruit. Gwidon shook his head at the Goblin King's manner. Something told him that Jareth's arrogance would cause him some trouble. Gwidon only hoped that it wouldn't be too severe.

The rest of the little meeting went by smoothly and cheerfully as the four monarchs finished up the light snack and chatted amicably about the happenings in the two kingdoms.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Jareth and Nivienne remained in the Moonglade for two weeks after their wedding, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere and the beautiful scenery. They spent many a day strolling through the gardens or riding through the Forest. It was an idyllic time for both of them as they grew closer and got to know each other even better.

Jareth soon realized just how much of a handful his young wife could be. Her health fully restored, she was as lively and playful as Aiden had described her. Only a few days after the wedding, Jareth caught her and the twins sneaking out of the palace, casting mischievous glances over their shoulders. The elves winked at Jareth just as a muffled pop sounded from inside one of the corridors followed by a splash and a loud shriek. Aiden came jogging up, grinned at the other three, and all four began to run as a sopping wet Morgaine (wrapped only in a dripping towel) came storming from the palace.

A familiar odor met Jareth's nose. Morgaine was covered in rank, greenish water. Her outraged shrieks were answered only by her siblings' impish laughter that echoed out from their hiding place amidst the trees. The four of them later got quite the scolding from their father, especially Nivienne (such juvenile behavior was not fitting for a queen), but none of them missed the barely suppressed twinkle in the Elvenking's eyes.

It turned out that Nivienne had (at the twins' urging) bribed Snerb and a few of his goblin buddies to bring back three large buckets of Bog water. She and the twins had proceeded to fill several old wineskins with it and suspend them above Morgaine's bath. Aiden had then waited outside her room and had thrown a small rock through the window once she got in and the skins burst, dumping their putrid contents all over the stuck up eldest princess.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

It pleased Nivienne to see how well her brothers and Jareth got along; often the six boys (Jareth, the four princes, and Aiden) would go out for a ride near the Border by the Deep Forest. It was a wild place, and held danger and adventure for those who sought it. At Nivienne's insistence, the boys kept Jareth far away from any truly dangerous places, even tho' he protested that he could handle whatever the Deep threw his way. Whenever he made such comments, Nivienne would merely smile indulgently and shake her head, sending her husband off in a pout.

The boys made many a snide remark about Jareth being whipped, but after a few well-aimed crystals in the boys' directions and a brief goblin invasion (Jareth told his subjects that the elven princes' rooms held hidden, _shiny_ treasure, and that they had to find it… the little creatures searched _very_ thoroughly, leaving no stone unturned … literally), those comments stopped abruptly.

Finally, the time came for Jareth and his bride to go home to the Labyrinth. Nivienne and her mother spent the better part of a day packing her things and laying them out for the servants to take ahead of their monarchs to the Labyrinth by carriage and the Elvenking arranged for Aiden and the princes to escort Jareth's servants to the edge of the forest. Jareth and Nivienne would stay for one night more and then Jareth would transport them to his castle beyond the Goblin City.

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**A/N: If anyone is interested, I have a couple of pictures up of some of my characters.  
If any one wants to see, the links will be posted in my profile.  
**


	8. In Which Our Newlyweds Settle In

**Still sadly lacking in _Labyrinth_ ownership... maybe if I say 'The Words'... nah.  
Anyways, please read and review!**

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**Chapter 7**

The day of the Goblin Monarchs' departure came quickly. The entire Royal Family gathered in the palace courtyard to say farewell. Everyone, even Morgaine, seemed sad to see them go. Nivienne embraced her parents and promised to contact them soon while Jareth clasped arms with Aiden and the princes, promising to take good care of their sister and cousin. Then, each of the boys took a turn picking the small elven girl up and twirling her around in a series of bone-crushing hugs. After saying good-bye to Gwidon and Lessa, Jareth rescued Nivienne from her brothers' powerful good-byes and gently wrapped his arm around her waist. With a deft twist of his wrist, Jareth summoned a crystal and the two of them disappeared in a shower of glitter and smoke.

They reappeared a few moments later in Jareth's throne room. It was a large room with two thrones on the dais at the far end. A large, shallow, circular pit was in the center of the room, and two corridors on either side of the dais led off to other parts of the castle. Beautiful tapestries adorned the pillared walls, and wide windows let in the morning light. A royal blue carpet, edged in silver ran down from the dais, through the pit, and down the hall, ending at a huge pair of double doors that led outside.

Nivienne gasped as she looked around her. Everything seemed so wide open and bright to her forest-dweller's senses. Looking out of one of the windows, she saw the sprawl of the Labyrinth itself, with its towering stone walls and intricate paths. Directly behind its inner walls lay the Goblin City. It was bright and clean, with wide, bustling streets and sturdy buildings built close together. Jareth couldn't help but smirk at his wife's awed response.

"The Labyrinth surrounds the city and the city surrounds the castle," he said, leading her to a window on the opposite side, "There are two ways into the city from the Labyrinth. The one used by the Fae is on the side that you were just looking at… The entrance for any human who runs my Labyrinth is on this side."

Nivienne looked out and her eyes widened in shock at the difference that lay before her. Lopsided, crude houses crowded the narrow, dirty streets and piles of trash lay everywhere. She turned to her husband.

"The Goblins don't actually live _there_, do they?" she asked, rather appalled.

"Of course not." Jareth looked affronted. "What kind of monarch would I be if I let my people live in _that_?? That part of the city is a ruse, a façade, if you will, for the humans to see. The Goblins think of it as their playground, and keep it as messy as any child keeps his room. It has its own private entrance to a fake throne room on the lower levels. It keeps the humans from ever suspecting that the Fae are actually real, for it is so warped and odd that they always assume that it must be a dream."

"I see," mused Nivienne, walking back to the other side. "Well, the real Goblin City is lovely… although…" she smiled sheepishly, "it will take some time for me to get used to all this open sky and so few trees."

Jareth just laughed and gently steered his wife through one of the corridors and down the hall. As they walked, he pointed out different rooms and told her which passageways led where. At last, after heading up another flight of stairs and taking a few more turns, they came to the Royal Apartments.

The first room was the King's Chamber. It was a decent sized room, spacious, but cozy and inviting. The entire room was done in varying deep shades of red and polished woods with painted scenes of the Labyrinth depicted across the ceiling. A door in the far corner led to the bathroom; next to it was an armoire and a stone fireplace. On the far wall, a wide window with a padded window seat and matching satin curtains opened out over the shining half of the Goblin City. On the adjacent wall stood a large bed, and just to the right of it was a small door.

Jareth opened up the door and led Nivienne in. This room was dark, the curtains drawn to block out the sun. With a flick of his wrist, Jareth sent a crystal flying at the curtains, and they parted with a soft whisper of silk on plush carpet. Nivienne's lips parted slightly as she looked about her in delighted wonder.

The Queen's Chamber was no less grand than the King's. The walls were painted with lush forest scenes and the ceiling had been painted to look like a covering canopy of leaves. In each of the four corners of the room was a pillar, made out of polished wood and fashioned to look like the trees that had been so abundant in Nivienne's home. Each one had little nooks and shelves carved into it for books and knick-knacks. The pillars wound up the walls, their support beams spread out like branches across the ceiling. The carpet was a deep moss green and very soft and thick. This chamber also had a window (complete with matching window seat), but the view was of a wooded park in the Royal Gardens with a small pond and lots of flowers. A large four-poster bed stood at the center of the far wall, it's posts carved to look like saplings covered in flowering vines. A stone fireplace stood right next to the door that led to Jareth's room, and on the adjacent wall was a similarly carved wardrobe next to the door that led back out to the main hallway.

Jareth watched his wife's reaction carefully. He had spent a full six months designing this room and another year building it in preparation for his bride's coming. Before he could ask her what she thought of it, Nivienne had flung her arms around his neck and looked up at him with shining eyes.

"This is beautiful," she breathed. "Thank you! Thank you so much!"

Jareth's smirk was gentle as he looked down at his wife.

"You're welcome."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Weeks flew by quickly as Nivienne adjusted to her new life as the Goblin Queen. At first, she spent most of her time in the castle library, reading as much as she could about the Labyrinth and the creatures it housed.

It turned out, that small goblins like Wert and Snerb were not the only type goblin in the Goblin City. It housed a much larger, more intelligent species as well: the Hobgoblins. These creatures were as mischievous as their smaller counterparts, but far more cunning. Many other types of mythical creatures dwelt within the Labyrinth's walls, from renegade dwarves to biting faeries, and, as Jareth informed her, new creatures appeared almost every week.

"The Labyrinth is a place where dreams come to life… therefore, any creature that the humans invent in their sleep becomes a reality here." he explained.

"Whoever dreamed up the Firies?"

"A four year old boy who was obsessed with sports and was, at the time, on the tail end of a sugar high."

Nivienne stared at her husband for a moment before both monarchs began to chuckle.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Nivienne was not the only one who was learning about her spouse's culture and traditions. Jareth had developed a fascination for Elven Runelore. One day, Nivienne came into the library, to find her husband lounging in his chair, feet propped up on a stack of ignored parchment, fiddling with his wedding band. He looked up as she came in and beckoned her over to his side. Giving her a light kiss on the forehead, he pulled her into his lap.

"I've been reading about older Elven Runes today, Pet."

"Instead of reading about potential border disputes? Whatever for?" Nivienne couldn't help but chuckle.

Jareth merely rolled his eyes and continued, holding up the hand that wore his ring.

"These designs look very much like some of the symbols I saw in the book… but they're woven together in such a way that I cannot make them out."

Nivienne gently pulled the ring off of his finger and twirled it carefully between her thumb and forefinger, pointing to various symbols as she went along.

"Well… this one here means Everlasting or Eternity… and this one stands for Love. That one is Faithfulness or Fidelity… and this last one means 'Two souls become One'"

She slipped the golden band back on her husband's finger. Gently, she traced her fingers back and forth over the palm of Jareth's hand as she continued,

"Elven Runes have great power… Since elves make our rings especially for our spouses… I thought those would be good things to inscribe into your ring… an Elven Blessing of sorts…"

A wide grin overtook Jareth's face as he lifted his wife's chin. All other conversation was cut short and the ignored border disputes were completely forgotten for the time being.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Soon after this little conversation, Nivienne began to take over the domestic duties of running the Labyrinth, leaving Jareth to deal with foreign affairs and the other Fae Lords. The two of them fell into a comfortable routine; most of the time they could be found in Jareth's study, him at his desk, pouring over letters from the Council and documents pertaining to alliances and trade agreements, and Nivienne curled on the window seat, browsing the details of various disputes between the citizens of the Goblin City (usually involving a chicken) or documenting other domestic affairs.

Spring turned into summer and under this new system of teamwork, the Labyrinth prospered more than ever before, and the land enjoyed many months of prosperity and security. Little did anyone know that this peace was to be completely and utterly shattered in just a few short weeks' time.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The letters arrived a few hours before dawn. Jareth found himself rudely awakened by Wert jumping up and down on his chest, frantically waving two scrolls of parchment. As soon as his king awoke, the little goblin bowed apologetically and, lowering his eyes to avoid Jareth's deadly scowl, vanished from the room with a muffled pop, before his monarch could banish him to the Bog.

Propping himself up on his elbow, Jareth proceeded to browse the first letter, muttering curses and wondering what in the Underground was so important that he had to be woken at this ungodly hour. Unrolling the parchment, Jareth was startled to see the formal script of the Council staring back at him. Bemused he began to read:

**"The Rulers of the Labyrinth are hereby summoned  
to a Meeting of the _C__ouncil of the__ F__ae__ L__ords_  
to be held in a week's time at the Great Palace.**

_** - The Oracle**__**"**_

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**Well... as I haven't gotten any reviews... I can't tell if I have an audience who cares if I finish the story or not... If the trend of not reviewing continues, I'll probably discontinue the story on the assumption that it isn't that good...**

**-Reese**


	9. In Which the Nightmare Rears Its Head

**I am still noticing a distinct lack of _Labyrinth_ ownership in my life.... Jim Henson 3,817; Reese 0**

**

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Chapter 8**

The Goblin King's eyes widened in alarm as he all but ripped the seal off the second parchment and hurriedly began to read. The elegant handwriting of the Elvenqueen, so similar to Nivienne's, was blurred and scratchy, as tho' the letter had been written in great haste and agitation.

_**"To the Goblin King, Greetings and Apologies.**_

_** I know this letter must disturb your rest, my dear son-in-law,****  
but this news is too urgent to wait for the coming of Dawn.**_

_**Darkness has suddenly begun spreading from the Deep Forest  
at an alarming rate. My husband and I have called an emergency  
meeting of the Council, but we felt it would only be right to warn  
you since the Deep borders your lands as well as ours. As we speak, ****  
our Rangers have set up a constant patrol of the Boundary in hopes  
of checking the Darkness' spread.**_

_**More will be revealed at the Meeting.**_

_** Stay well and safe,**_

_** Lessa Wyldfae,  
Elvenqueen of the Moonglade."**_

Jareth let out a startled string of curses. If the Darkness had returned and was spreading, something was terribly wrong. A soft sigh interrupted his thoughts.

A sleep-tousled Nivienne stood in the doorway that connected their two chambers. Clad only in a long white nightdress and blue silk dressing gown, the sleepy Goblin Queen padded over to Jareth's bed, rubbing her eyes, trying to clear the drowsiness from her mind.

"Jareth… what's wrong?" she mumbled. "Why are you up and cursing at this hour? It's too early for the goblins to have done anything stupid…"

Jareth gently pulled her onto the bed and turned her so her back was against his chest. Sighing, he rested his chin on the top of her head and showed her the scrolls. He felt her gasp as she read her mother's letter. She looked up at him, eyes frantic, all drowsiness gone from her countenance.

"Is that all she says? Nothing about whether or not everyone is alright?"

Jareth groaned. He remembered all too late that all of his wife's brothers were in the Rangers, and her cousin was the Captain. Of course she would be worried about them. Mentally he cursed himself for not giving her some warning to soften the blow.

"I'm sure that they are all fine… your mother would have told us if they were hurt. "

"But—"

"No 'buts'… _they are fine_, Pet. Don't start worrying now. We'll find out more at the Meeting."

Jareth gently rocked his wife back and forth, resting his head in her dark hair. Only his mismatched eyes showed over the back of her head; he was glad she couldn't see how worried they were.

* **** * **** * **** * **** * **** * *** * **** * **** * **** * **** * **** *

By the time the sun rose, Jareth and his queen were in their carriage, traveling East to the Great Palace of the Fae, located at the center of the Underground.

It was a huge structure located in the heart of the Underground. Its shimmering white spires overlooked marble terraces and well-tended grounds full of trees and flowers while beautifully carved statues of every powerful Lord stood scattered throughout the entire palace. Inside, wonderously detailed murals of each battle and each great moment in time ornamented almost every wall. Enormous windows of colored crystal sparkled in the bright noon sun, while the banners of all the thirteen Fae Lords rippled majestically in the breeze. It served as a monument to all the great things the Fae had accomplished over the millennia that they had existed and also as a witness to the many terrible tragedies that had swept the lands.

There, all the meetings were held, presided over by the Oracle, the wisest of the Fae and said to be as old as the stars themselves. Under his wise rule, the Fae lands had known peace and prosperity for the last thousand years as his sage advice stopped many a war between the various Fae Lords. It broke everyone's hearts that this long peace might soon come to a very abrupt and painful end.

* **** * **** * **** * **** * **** * *** * **** * **** * **** * **** * **** *

Despite the urgency that both Jareth and Nivienne felt, they knew that they had to follow protocol. Unless someone had proof of high treason, it was tradition that all the Fae Lords traveled to any Meeting in their carriages and arrived with much pomp and ceremony. In the Old Days, this had been a sign of respect between the monarchs, now it was just used as an excuse to spend as little time with the other Lords as possible.

The carriage journey took the better part of four days. Jareth and Nivienne arrived at the Great Palace at high noon on the fourth day, their shimmering white carriage glinting in the light. Unlike some of the other Fae Lords, their entourage was rather small, consisting only of the Royal Guard, a group of eight highly trained Hobgoblins, in glittering steel chain mail. Wert and Snerb rode with the dwarven coachman (he used to work in the gardens, as a pest control agent with the Biting Faeries, but was given a position in Jareth's stables after an incident with a runner) on the roof of the carriage. Behind them were three groups of six goblins, each carrying large trunks of clothes and jewels.

Just behind the Goblin Monarchs, came the Merking, Aegir, his wife, Ariadne, and their eldest daughter, Sedna. The Merfolk came in a splendid array, dressed in sheer, shimmering silk robes, with strings of deep-sea pearls wound through their long green hair and bands of gold glittering on their arms. Their coach was a giant gleaming shell from some deep-sea beast and it was pulled by half a dozen pure white aughiskies. Behind them was a lengthy procession of slaves, each carrying a large trunk or chest overflowing with deep-sea jewels or elaborately embroidered silks.

Aegir and the Goblin King clasped arms and bowed while Nivienne dropped a slight curtsy, dipping her head in polite acknowledgment, from behind her husband. Jareth placed his hand on her arm and ushered her forward, politely taking leave of the Merfolk. With all appropriate arrogance, the two Goblin monarchs passed under the great archway that overlooked the courtyard, walked up the grand outer staircase, and passed through two giant oak doors that led to the main foyer.

As soon as Jareth and Nivienne stepped under the great arch that covered the entrance to the grand foyer, a servant rushed to greet them. Jareth couldn't help but smirk when the servant stopped short, having caught sight of Wert perched on his king's shoulder, followed by two of the more burly Hobgoblins. The servant's eyes widened as he stammered out his greeting to the Goblin Monarchs.

"You are welcome here, your Majesties… as are… your… subjects…"

Here, the servant again lost the momentum of his speech as Snerb trundled out from behind Nivienne's skirts and calmly reached up to clutch her hand. Shaking his head quickly, the flustered servant continued, eying the little goblin (who grinned innocently back) all the while.

"If you and your… entourage…"

(Here, Wert had nonchalantly pulled a smushed biscuit from under his grubby frilly green beret and began to eat it while staring curiously at the stuttering Fae before him.)

"… will follow me, I'll show you to your rooms." The flustered servant hurried off down one of the corridors, wanting only to be rid of those odd little creatures.

When they reached the guest chambers permanently assigned to the Goblin Kingdom (no one else would take them after the unfortunate Frog Incident that happened with Jareth's great-grandfather), the servant fumbled with the keys for a few moments before successfully unlocking the door. Jareth merely looked down his nose at him as he regally swept by. Nivienne followed close behind, eyes twinkling with suppressed mirth as she tried to hide her amusement at the servant's obvious discomfort with the goblins.

"The meeting will commence in two hours." After this failed attempt to gather the remaining shreds of his dignity, the Fae hurried off, casting nervous glances behind him as he went.

Nivienne peered down the corridor after him, a mock-bewildered look on her face.

"Whatever was the matter with him?" The Goblin Queen's voice dripped innocence.

Jareth's smug smirk widened as he nonchalantly shrugged one shoulder.

"Must be new."

* **** * **** * **** * **** * **** * *** * **** * **** * **** * **** * **** *

After unpacking and leaving strict instructions with both Wert and Snerb, and the Hobgoblins (no chickens, nothing squishy or slimy, no singing, and NO ale), the Goblin King and Queen emerged and made their way to the large foyer where the rest of the Lords were assembling and watching the latest arrivals while playing politics with each other.

This didn't go on for too long, for almost as soon as the Goblin Monarchs entered the room, one of the many servants lifted a long shining trumpet to his lips and sounded three shrill blasts. The large double doors that led to the Council Chamber slowly swung open and a deep, mellow voice from within echoed through the hall.

"I bid you welcome, Fae Lords, one and all. Come, enter and let us discuss what is to be done to quell the threat of this rising Darkness."

All the Fae Lords and their Ladies slowly filed into the chamber and respectfully took their seats around the long oval table that took up most of the room. A mural depicting the blindfolded goddess of Justice and her golden scales meting out rulings over the lands of the Underground stretched across all the walls of the Chamber, encompassing the Lords in a blatant reminder of their sworn duty to their peoples.

A hollow 'thock-thocking' sound alerted everyone to the Oracle's immanent arrival. They all gracefully rose to their feet and turned towards the shadowed entrance that stood directly at the head of the table.

Out of the dim light emerged an ancient Centaur, his flanks completely gray with age. His long white hair was pulled back in the ornate braids of a warrior of his people and two simple gold bands set with sapphires adorned his wiry arms. His lean human torso had lost none of the toned musclulature of his youth. In one knarled hand he held a tall oaken staff, the head of which was shaped into a rising phoenix made out of pure white gold and inlaid with rubies.

Despite his obvious age, the Oracle's bright blue eyes had lost none of their intensity over the many centuries. He fixed all of them with his piercing stare as he moved to his seat. A warm smile spread across his weathered features as he gestured for them to resume their seats.

"Again, welcome, my friends. Let us begin our Council."

Gwidon and Lessa stood and told everyone of the dilemma.

"The sightings began a few months ago, as all of you know, for we reported them immediately to the Council. It was not until right before our daughter's marriage that the first attack occurred. Since then, the ensuing conflicts with Fiends and other creatures of the Dark have been steadily increasing. We have called Alec, our eldest son, and second-in-command of the Rangers, to tell you of what he and the men have seen."

As her husband finished speaking, Lessa gestured for Alec, who had been sitting quietly behind them, to come forward. The elf rose swiftly and bowed grimly to all the Fae Lords, shooting a small smile at Jareth and Nivienne.

"The soldiers and I have never encountered beasts like these before… and we have been patrolling the Border for years. In the beginning, the creatures couldn't come past the silver trees… we just heard them… only the very strongest were ever even visible. Now even the weakest ones can be seen at any time."

Alec paused and looked around.

"We fought off our first Hellhound two days ago. Its head was as big as my torso and its shoulders were as high as my hips…" Alec shuddered as he recalled the horrendous creature. "Its breath was so noxious that two of our men passed out from the poison and lack of clean oxygen. It tore them apart before we could get them out of there." Seeing his little sister's tormented look, Alec hastened to reassure her. "The entire Royal Family is fine, Lass – I mean, Your Majesty… none of us were not hurt too badly."

He turned back to the Fae Lords.

"The blood of a Hellhound is acidic… we found that out when we killed it."

The elven prince pulled something out of a pouch on his belt and tossed it down on the table. It took everyone a moment before they recognized it as a steel bracer, so warped was its shape. The once bright silvery metal was now pitted and blackened, worn completely through in some places.

All the Fae Lords looked grim.

"Fiends have become commonplace to us all," Alec continued. "And in the shadows, we have seen worse things… things I thought only existed in our legends… This Darkness is spreading, my Lords, and whatever it touches becomes twisted and warped and eventually dies."

Alec sat down. Nivienne could see his hands shaking. Sadly she gripped her husband's hand as she mourned the loss of the two Rangers and the slow defilement of her forest home.

For the next few hours, each of the Fae Lords proposed their ideas for stopping the ever-hastening spread of the Darkness. Each idea was successively shot down, until everyone was so frustrated that the Oracle called a halt to the Council.

"We shall reconvene tomorrow and hear the remaining Lords' solutions, once we are calmer."

Nodding their agreement, all the Fae began to walk out. Joining their brother and parents, Jareth and Nivienne escorted the elves from the hall, deriving comfort from the presence of their family. Even then, Nivienne could not shake the growing dread in her belly. She knew, without a doubt, that everything in her life was going to unravel before this nightmare ended.

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**A/N: Just want to thank _notwritten _for all the kind reviews and _Michi Yuy_ for favoriting my story. You guys rock! Just for you, I will post another chapter!**

**- Reese  
**


	10. In Which Things Begin to Unravel

**"The way forwards is sometimes the way back..." or conversely, "The way back is sometimes the way forwards..." Maybe the Wiseman was trying to hint that if I want to own _Labyrinth_, I have to build a time machine and... naaahhh... perhaps I shall have to resign myself to never owning _Labyrinth_... *wanders off to find tool kit and _Time Machine Building Manual For Dummies_***

* * *

**Chapter 9**

The Goblin King paced through their quarters, pale brows knitted in a fierce scowl. Sighing, he ran his hands through his blond hair, ruffling it up even more than it normally was. The Council of the Fae Lords would meet again in thirteen hours to discuss what to do about the growing Darkness. He could only see one option, and it troubled him, pained him like no other decision he had had to make during his rule.

The soft creak of an opening door interrupted his thoughts. Before he could turn, two arms wrapped gently around his waist and he felt Nivienne press her cheek against his shoulder blades. The two Fae stood there quietly for a few minutes, not saying anything, until Nivienne's quiet query broke the silence.

"What are we going to do?"

Jareth slowly turned to face her, his eyes dark.

"I am going to motion for the Forest to be …contained… and it's magic sealed. If there is no magic for the Darkness to absorb, its spread will stop and it will eventually die." He said sadly.

Nivienne's eyes widened and she pulled away from her husband to sink down onto the couch. She looked at Jareth with a pale face.

"But… what of the Moonglade? What of my home, my people, _my family_? If you seal off the Forest's magic, they'll all die along with the Darkness! Elves cannot survive without the heartbeat of the Forest! Even if you got them all out of there before it gets sealed off, once the Forest is cut off, they will all fade into nothing!"

"I can see no other way to stop this. I hate it as much as you do... believe me, Pet."

"Jareth… if you raise this issue in Council… I will have to oppose it…. I - I _cannot_ agree to sign my people's death warrant…"

Jareth sat down next to his wife. Very gently, he gripped her shoulders and turned her to face him. His eyes burned intensely into hers and his grip on her shoulders tightened.

"We need to be strong… united… during the Council meeting. Please, Nivienne… I need you to stand behind me, as my Queen. Don't defy me… not in front of the other Fae Lords."

Nivienne just stared at him for a moment, then quietly rose, gave Jareth's forehead a gentle kiss, and left, softly shutting the door behind her. Jareth's shoulders slumped. He dreaded the Council meeting tomorrow.

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The Fae Lords sat somberly around the large table, each listening intently as others proposed different ways of halting the Darkness's ever hastening spread. So far, every idea had been voted down. Finally, it was Jareth's turn to speak; a glance at his wife showed her to be very pale with slightly red-rimmed eyes – as if she'd been crying profusely. Sighing, the Goblin King drew himself to his full height and addressed the assembly.

"My fellow monarchs," he began, "I fear that the only option we have is to cut off the Darkness at its source. Therefore… I motion for the Forest to be contained, and its magic sealed away, until the Darkness dies and it is safe for its inhabitants once again."

Murmurs rose from around the table, and Jareth raised his hands to silence them. He looked sadly at his wife and at Gwidon, Lessa, and Alec.

"This decision pains me… for I regard the elves as my friends and as my own family… but I can see no other option, no other way to stop it..."

With that, the Goblin King sat down. Immediately, the other Lords burst out.

"We cannot seal the Forest! It's magic sustains half the nations in the Underground!"

"What of the elves… how are they to survive?!"

"The Darkness must be stopped by whatever means possible!"

"What if it fails? It will leave our lands severely weakened and defenseless!"

"But something must be done!"

The Oracle banged his rod against the table, bringing silence to the meeting.

"Silence! We shall have a vote."

The Elvenking was the first to speak. The older elf rose and looked out over the table at his son-in-law. He looked incredibly weary and drawn.

"These are dark times indeed… and they give rise to desperate suggestions. I bear the Goblin King no ill will in suggesting what he has… for each king needs to do what he feels is best for his own kingdom. As such, though… I cannot vote for what will surely bring about the destruction of my people. The King of the Moonglade votes against the sealing of our Forest."

Lessa nodded in agreement with her husband.

"The Queen of the Moonglade also votes against the sealing of the Forest."

The Elvenking sat back down. Jareth caught his eye, and nodded in understanding. Both kings shared a moment of mutual sadness as they waited for the rest to decide the Elves' fate.

Nivienne rose gracefully. Her face was a cool mask, but Jareth saw the torment behind her eyes. Her hands tightened around the arms of her chair as she began to speak.

"I have never opposed my husband in Council before… the Labyrinth is my home now, and its inhabitants are my people… I, too, feel the need to protect them… but I will not… _cannot_… vote for the death of my kin. The Moonglade was my Birth Home… the Forest, my protector… I must also vote against the sealing of the Forest."

The Goblin Queen sank down into her chair beside her husband. She looked at him pleadingly, silently begging him to understand her position. Jareth met her gaze in stony silence, before turning away to hear the rest of the vote.

Overcome, Nivienne quietly got up and discreetly left the Chamber. No one but her family and her husband noticed her early departure.

Jareth sat fuming in his chair. She had betrayed him! Gone against him even after he had warned her not to defy him! A king and queen must stand united in Council; any sign of friction or discord would be taken as weakness. The other Fae Lords could use it against him and take it as a sign to attack his kingdom. Blast that girl! Could she not see how difficult this was for him? Did she not see how much it pained him? All he had asked for was her support in this, and she had denied him!

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Shortly after Nivienne left, the rest of the Lords filed slowly out for a short recess. Her family caught sight of her and made their way over. A few whispered words of comfort and thanks were exchanged before Alec glanced behind him and then motioned for his parents to leave. Nivienne saw Jareth approaching and her eyes widened slightly. As Jareth drew near, the Elvenking placed a hand on his arm and gave him a sad, but understanding look, before moving off with his wife and son, leaving Nivienne alone with her glowering husband.

The Goblin King grabbed Nivienne's elbow roughly and forcefully ushered her down the hall into their chambers. Once the door had shut behind them, Jareth rounded on his wife.

"I warned you not to defy me, Nivienne," He growled, shaking her, "why would you betray me like this??"

"Do you think I found that easy? I spent all last night trying to reconcile my duty to _you_ with my duty to _my people_! Jareth, I _told_ you I could not support this! I cannot send my people to death just because _you_ see no other option!!"

"The subjects of the _Labyrinth_ are your people now!" Jareth had begun shouting. "What of them?? Must they suffer because of your soft heart?? You are _my queen_! You should have stood by me, no matter how hard it was!"

"And the Elves are my _family_! Would you have me desert them?? Just let them die??"

"So to spare them, you betray me instead?? Do you know what you may have done??" Jareth roared.

"I never betrayed you!!" Nivienne hissed, struggling to hold in her anger at her husband's stubbornness. "I gave my vote in Council! Just because I can think for myself, instead of following your every whim--!!"

"You defied me…" Jareth cut her off, his voice a deadly, cold whisper. "You went against me in front of the Fae Lords, possibly endangering our Realm. _How_ is that not a betrayal of the worst kind?" He turned his back on her. "Go back to your family. Get out of my sight."

The room went deathly still. At long last, having heard no sound, Jareth turned, only to confront an empty chamber. Nivienne was gone, along with most of her possessions. The wardrobe had been emptied of her clothes, and her trunk was missing from the foot of the bed.

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To say that the Elvenqueen was surprised to see her daughter's trunk and clothes suddenly appear in the corner of her chamber in a puff of glittery smoke would be an obvious statement. It came as no surprise, however, when Nivienne came knocking at her door a few moments later. Lessa gently ushered her youngest in, sat her on the bed, and offered her some tea.

Nivienne had used the Crystal powers she had gained as Goblin Queen to transport her things to her mother's room and to transport herself out into the courtyard. She had thought the longer walk to the Elven Quarter of the Great Palace would help calm her a bit, but it had only heightened her hurt and outrage. By the time she reached her mother's chamber she had been trembling, she was trying so hard to hold back her tears. Almost as soon as the cup of tea was in her hands, the tears began to flow and, in between the angry sobs that racked her body and her shuddering breaths, she told her mother about the fight. Finally, she managed to calm down.

"I'm returning to the Moonglade with you, Mother. I'll keep up a façade until the end of the Council, but I will not return to the Labyrinth… not yet, anyway."

"Do you think that is wise, my daughter? Should you abandon your husband just now? What of the Bond?"

"Jareth told me to leave and called me a traitor, Mamma. He has made it clear that he neither wishes for me to stay nor cares if I leave, so unless he apologizes before the Council session is over, or gives me some sign that he wants to work this out, I will return home for now. He can come to _me _this time, when he's willing to be rational. He needs to learn that he can't treat people like this. He can't just fly off the handle and lash out blindly when he doesn't get his way. As for the Bond… the pain that it will give me can be nothing compared to the anguish I feel now."

Lessa's eyes were sad as she looked at her youngest, but she saw no chance of Nivienne changing her mind. She shook her head I resignation.

"Very well…. I can see you are determined." Lessa sighed. "Come home for a while, but be discreet. Come up with a story that will keep the other Fae Lords from suspecting."

"I'll say that I'm going to give relief to the Elves, as they are on the front line against the Darkness…. Everyone knows I am a powerful healer, and it is only natural that The Labyrinth give aid to its allies."

"Very good, my dear. It's nearly time for Council to resume. You go back to your rooms while I inform your father and brother that you'll be returning home with us."

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The rest of the Fae Council was uneventful. As per tradition, Nivienne went in on her husband's arm and sat next to him. Neither said a word or even glanced at the other. Nivienne managed to keep up the façade of marital peace better than her husband, but not by much. By the end of the Council, both Fae were exhausted.

As soon as they had all filed out of the Council Chamber, Jareth let go of Nivienne's arm and disappeared off into the crowd, leaving his wife to deal with the gossips and scandal-seekers of the Court. No sooner had he left, than Nivienne was cornered by Lady Delphinea, Princess of the Faerie Kingdom and the biggest gossip in the Court. The dark haired elven girl grimaced as the bubbly, air-headed pixie began fishing for a scandal.

"Why, my _dear_ Nivienne! How _are_ you and Jareth doing?" The princess cooed with false concern. "You both seemed so _grim_ during the meeting!"

"We are fine, Lady Delphinea. I thank you for your kind concern!" Nivienne forced a smile as she tried to appear friendly. Oh, how she hated gossip mongers!

"But is everything alright? It's not like the two of you to be so _cold_! Rumor has it that you two had a fight and you are _leaving_ him! Oh! How _horrible_ it must be for you!" Delphinea began to push a little.

Nivienne forced another fake smile and added a brittle laugh in an attempt to stave off the determined faerie.

"Oh no! My _dear_ Delphi, you have it all _wrong_!" She cooed, imitating the infuriating princess. "I am merely going to the Moonglade to offer my services as a healer. You _must_ understand how _hard_ it is for me to watch my people suffer. If Jareth seemed a little grim… it is only because he is concerned for my safety." Nivienne lowered her voice, as if confiding a secret. "You _know_ how men are about displaying emotions in public…"

"Oh! Tearing yourself away from your beloved to go serve your people! Oh! How utterly dramatic and romantic! Oh, look! There is my dear Lady Sedna! I _must_ run! Do take care, Nivienne!"

With that, the scatterbrained pixie fluttered off to go gossip with her friend. Nivienne smirked as Delphinea left. Soon, news of her and Jareth's sacrifice would spread throughout the court and, hopefully, they could smooth their marital problems out in peace.

After Nivienne had made sure that all the other Lords had left, she and her family made ready to leave as well. Jareth had stormed off somewhere, so she didn't know if he was aware of her plans. It didn't really matter, though, he would find out soon enough. Ignoring the throbbing pain in her heart, she stepped into her family's carriage.

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Jareth strode down the halls to his and Nivienne's chambers. The Council Meeting had failed to keep his interest, so he had sat in his place and brooded. The vote had gone against him; instead of closing off the Forest, the Fae would try to find some other way to destroy the Darkness. The Goblin King was starting to feel rather depressed; not only was the Council no closer to finding a good defense against that growing threat, but he had managed to infuriate and alienate his wife, and all for nothing.

A sudden pang in his soul caused him to start in suprise and hurried his steps.

When he got to his chamber, he found it completely stripped. All of his possessions were neatly packed away, ready to be transported back to the castle, and Nivienne's things were gone. The only thing that seemed out of place was a roll of parchment sitting in the middle of the bed. Warily, Jareth began to read it.

**My Lord,**

**I have returned to the Moonglade for the time being. The rest  
of the Fae Lords and their wives believe that I am going to  
offer my skills as a healer on the Front, so, fear not, your  
reputation and standing has not been compromised.**

**The Dwarven King has requested I tell you that he is "Behind ye  
all the way!" so if you have need, call on him.**

**When you return to the Labyrinth, you will find three scrolls at  
my side of the bed. They contain the details, facts, and my verdicts  
about some of the disputes between the goblins. Feel free to do  
with them what you like.**

That was it, none of her usual endearments or witty comments; she didn't even sign her name at the end. A small amount of remorse and sadness made its way into Jareth's heart upon reading her note, but it was largely overshadowed by his anger and his wounded pride. The Marriage Bond that connected their hearts gave a small twang as Nivienne moved further away, but Jareth suppressed his distress. Fine, let her play that game; he could wait. He could wait for as long as it took for her to cave.


	11. In Which We Witness a Brotherly Chat

**Still lacking in_ Labyrinth_-ness.... the time-machine idea was a flop.... (looks over shoulder to glance at the smoldering pile of rubble that was once the garage and slowly begins to edge away, whistling.)**

**

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Chapter 10**

Nivienne stepped out of the carriage and took a deep breath. She could feel the stress of the Marriage Bond throbbing in her soul, causing her heart to ache with the absence of her husband. She pushed those worries aside, determined that he should be the one to cave first. Yet, despite the gravity of the situation and her own unsettled feelings, just being back in the shadows of the trees brought a great sense of relief to the young elf.

Any relief was short lived, however, for as soon as she set foot on the ground, a grim Aiden came running up. Even though he was surprised to see his cousin, he wasted no time in frantically pushing her towards the Glade of Healing before he began talking with Alec and the Elvenking.

The situation was worse than she had expected. Every hut was full, and there were makeshift shelters all throughout the Glade. The cries of the wounded echoed through the trees and disappeared into the dim light overhead. Nivienne was suddenly swept back to that first time that she had dealt with a Fiend Wound and the pain that had seared through her and the young ranger. Shaking her head to clear it of the memory, she swiftly sought out the new Mother Healer and set about to work. Many of the wounds had been caused by Fiends, though others came from Hellhounds and Spectres. With each wound that she healed, Nivienne became acutely more aware of how powerful the Darkness was becoming. Only beings from the Deep Shadows were capable of the destruction she now faced.

Hours flew by in a flurry of activity and soon, night had come. Finally, running on adrenaline alone, Nivienne struggled to heal her last patient. Her healing glow faded slowly into the wound and the soldier relaxed. Nivienne sighed in relief; this one would live. Trembling, she leaned back against the wall of the tree-hut and closed her eyes in exhaustion.

A spicy aroma met her nose. Opening her eyes, she saw the new Mother Healer bending down and offering her a cup of steaming spiced cider. Gratefully, she sipped the hot drink, allowing it to calm her taut nerves.

"We cannot thank you enough, Mother Healer, for returning to us." Smiled the other elf as she sipped from her own cup of cider. "We only lost two today, and that is mostly thanks to you. I don't know what we would have done without you."

"It is my pleasure to help." Nivienne assured the healer. "And, please, you are the Mother Healer now. I am merely Nivienne… or if we must be formal, Lady Nivienne."

Both elven women exchanged tired smiles. Despite the heaviness of the dark times before them, the balm of comradeship made the day a little easier to bear.

"As you wish, my Lady Nivienne. But you must rest now. I hear that you will push yourself past your limits if you think it will save someone." Nivienne grinned sheepishly at this. "However, you shall not be doing so tonight. Go, join your family and rest for the night. My healers and I can handle it from here."

The dark haired princess smiled.

"I'll bid you good night then, Mother Healer. I shall return, as soon as the dawn wakes me. Get some rest yourself. I do not want you to become a patient as well."

Nivienne slowly made her way to the Palace. Idly, she noticed that all the stars were gone, hidden by the Darkness that surrounded them. The Moonglade had become a fortress. Only its carefully spun web of mythril and silver protected it from the evil outside its borders.

When she reached the throne room, Nivienne saw that her whole family had gathered. Even Morgaine had joined them, although, Nivienne was surprised to note that her normally immodest sister had shrouded herself in a heavy cloak and a long sleeved, high cut dress. She was even wearing lace gloves that covered up the backs of her hands. The cowl of the cloak had been pulled up, hiding Morgaine's face from view.

Immediately, Nivienne's brothers and cousin surrounded her, all questioning her about Jareth or crushing her in tight embraces by turn. Finally, after she got them to calm down and had assured them that she was all right, Nivienne told them the whole story. Her brothers' faces darkened and Aiden looked about ready to kill. As if by some unspoken signal, all of them tuned and looked at the Elvenking, silently asking for his permission. Sighing, Gwidon nodded his assent and motioned for them to leave.

"We shall not be gone long, Ada." growled Alec.

One by one, the boys took on their animal forms and sped off through the night to fulfill a promise made not so long ago.

In the sudden flurry of activity, no one noticed Morgaine's sinister smirk and her dark chuckle. Slowly, the jealous older girl stepped back into the shadows and faded from sight, disappearing down the dark corridors to her chambers.

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Jareth was sitting quietly in his library back home. Legs draped over the side of a plush armchair, he stared moodily into the flames before him. Strong as the fire on the hearth was, it failed to warm the air around the brooding Goblin King. A partially finished meal sat on the table beside his chair, and a mostly finished bottle of ale rested beside it. With a small sigh, the slightly inebriated monarch rose and walked towards the fireplace. It had only been six days without her, and he was already starting to regret his stubbornness. Not that he'd ever admit to it, but he missed his elven bride. The castle was too quiet without her. _So this is what her father was talking about_, he mused, thinking back to her illness before they were married. The girl brought life and laughter wherever she went, despite her quiet nature.

By now, the magic of the Bond had awakened full force. With each passing day that Nivienne was so far away, the anguish in his heart kept building. If things weren't fixed soon, Jareth feared the pain would be too much to bear, yet pride prevented him from going to her.

But, before he could allow himself to wallow even further into self-pity, a loud crash interrupted his dark thoughts. Without warning, the library doors and windows had all burst open. Through the windows flew two white hawks, and a large red-tailed hawk, while through the doors a large red-gold wolf and a ruddy colored cougar came bounding.

After swirling around him for a bit, the birds all came to rest by the wolf and, with a bright flash of light, all the animals transformed. In a burst of white feathers, the twins appeared, and the cougar stretched leisurely into Alec. The red-tailed hawk became Aiden in a burst of flame, and the large wolf slowly straightened itself into Tyr. The five elves looked grimly at Jareth, before they began to close in on him, stalking him like the predators they were kin to.

"We _warned_ you what would happen if you hurt our sister…" one of the twins growled.

Before Jareth could speak, Aiden blurred and the Goblin King found himself pinned by his neck to the wall by a very irate elven Captain. The four brothers were close behind, all cracking their knuckles and grinding their teeth, all except Tyr. Tyr was drawing his knife.

"You bloody sod!" yelled Aiden. "What do you mean by insultin' my little cousin so?? Have you no shame??"

Aiden suddenly flew back as Jareth flung his own magic against the elf.

"How dare _I_?? How _dare_ you!!" roared the Goblin King. "How _dare_ you all burst into _my_ palace and assault me! Get out! You are not wanted, and neither is your sister!!"

This time Jareth stood no chance. Before he could blink the twins had his arms twisted behind his back and shoved him face first into the wall. Tyr walked up and stuck his knife against Jareth's ribs, pressing just enough to ensure that the Goblin King couldn't move. Aiden got up, wiping some blood off his lip, and walked over just as Alec yanked Jareth's head back by his blond hair.

"You don't get it, do you?" hissed Alec. "I was _there_, remember? I saw the position that she was in. Either have the blood of her family on her head, or 'betray' her husband. My little sister was going to lose either way. She did the best she could."

"She should have supported me… I am her _husband_…"

"And _we_ are her family!" snarled Cayden, "Do you think she would just callously send us to our deaths? Morgaine might… but _never_ our Niv."

"Did you stop and think that by sealing off the Forest, you'd kill her too?" Tyr growled.

Jareth's eyes widened and he stiffened.

"Think." snapped Gavyn. "She's an elf, and '_no elf can live without the heartbeat of the Forest_.'"

Aiden sighed.

"She's not afraid to die… in fact… I'll bet that her dyin' never even crossed her mind. If she thought that her death could save us all… that crazy child would give it up before even thinkin'. But she would never force us to make the same sacrifice. Never."

"Did you know that she went out of her way to shield you from the Court gossips?" Alec asked sternly, releasing Jareth's head. Tyr sheathed his knife and the twins shoved Jareth onto the couch. The stunned Goblin King just sat there.

"She should've just left you to deal with it yourself." Cayden muttered.

"But she didn't," continued his twin. "She allowed herself to be cornered by Delphinea…" here all six men winced, "and made up some story about you being concerned as she went off to work at the Front."

"You _know_ how much she hates the Court gossips," pressed Alec, "but she used them to her advantage to protect your lands."

"She could've spilled the whole story…endangered your realm by revealing internal strife…" Gavyn pointed out.

"…or just left you to explain your sudden lack of wife to the rest of the Lords on your own…" continued his twin.

"Oh yes…" snarled Tyr, pinning Jareth with his blazing green-gray eyes, "She's _really_ betrayed you…"

Jareth stared down at his hands. He knew they were right. He knew it, but he was too proud to admit it just then. Aiden looked at his friend sadly, while the others just stared at the sullen king with contempt and anger.

"Come, brothers," snapped Tyr, "We're not getting thru' to him"

Aiden and the twins headed to the window, while Alec and Tyr stalked towards the doors leading out to the hall. Jareth's low voice stopped them.

"What does it matter… She won't come back…"

All five elves heaved an exasperated sigh, each shaking his head over their brother-in-law's foolishness. Aiden and Alec went and flung themselves onto the couch on either side of Jareth, the twins each perched themselves on a table (Gavyn picked up the king's abandoned dinner, and without batting an eyelid, began to finish off what was left), while Tyr leaned nonchalantly against the mantle, silently fiddling with his dagger. With a sharp whistle, Aiden summoned Wert and told him to fetch six bottles of ale. Jareth didn't even look up as his friend took the bottles from the little goblin and passed them around. After taking a long sip, Aiden began to speak.

"You're right… she's not gonna come back…"

Jareth's face fell further and his shoulders slumped.

"But only because you haven't asked her to, you _dolt_…" Gavyn rolled his eyes, taking a swig of his ale.

"She thinks you don't want her… I believe the phrase was '_Go back to your family. Get out of my sight._'… yeah…that might've been what did it." Cayden said. He was just a tad bit angrier than his twin; after all, Nivienne was his favorite sister.

"… Can't see why she wouldn't want to return…" drawled Gavyn, "…nope… don't have a clue…"

Tyr glared half-heartedly at his older brother.

"Anyway…" the youngest brother began, "you may want to remedy that little… misunderstanding… with a letter of apology, or better yet, go get her yourself and tell her in person."

"See, the problem is," said Alec, pausing to gulp some ale, "that my sister, while she is a kind and quiet girl, does have a bit of a temper…"

"Might be called resentful…" Gavyn cut in.

"The longer you let her stew about it, the worse it'll be for you." finished Aiden.

"Trust us… we've all been through it." sighed Alec, gesturing around the room with his empty bottle.

"Some more than others…" Tyr couldn't help but grin, shooting a sly glance at the twins.

"Honestly… it's pretty funny to watch…" Gavyn grinned as well.

"As long as it's not directed at you." smiled Cayden, with a mock shudder.

Even Jareth, as depressed as he was, couldn't help but smile at the thought of his tiny Nivienne cowing one of her taller brothers. It was like trying to picture a full-grown panther backing down from a kitten.

"Soooo… you might wanna face her sooner rather than later." grinned Aiden, finishing off his ale.

Jareth sighed and, running his hands through his hair, got up and faced the elves, who were all eying him expectantly. Several rounds of drinks later, a wolf, a cougar, and a flock of birds were seen barreling (rather unsteadily) out of the castle, this time with a barn owl in tow.

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**A/N: More reviews!!! Thank you, thank you, thank you to _Notwritten_ again for the lovely comments and to** _**Gem of the Stars**_** for the kind review! Also, many thanks to _Princess of the Fae_ for favoriting my little story!! Love you guys!!**

**- Reese**


	12. In Which There Are Reunions & Unmaskings

**Still don't own _Labyrinth..._ I've wished and wished and wished.... *sniffle*  
**

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Nivienne awoke at dawn and hurried to the Glade, where she spent the morning mixing salves and potions. The work helped to distract her from the growing pain in her heart, and kept her from giving into her misery completely and running back to her hard-headed husband.

It wasn't until the sun rose higher above the forest that the casualties started to come in. Once again, Nivienne found herself trapped in a macabre whirl of blood, pain, and decay. So far, no one had died, a blessing that kept raising the healers' spirits, if only slightly.

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By the time that Jareth and the boys arrived in the Moonglade, the sun was already high in the sky. As soon as they landed, they all resumed their true forms and hurried towards the Glade - Jareth, because he wanted to heal his relationship with his wife, and the boys, because they were not going to miss watching their little sister take her husband down a peg or two for the world.

The sight that met their eyes when they arrived at the Glade sobered them all instantly. A ranger had just been brought in, screaming and shaking. His legs and arms had been torn to shreds, and his face and chest were covered in blisters and burns. The boys followed him under a large tent only to find Nivienne, her face pale, and her arms and hands red with blood .

"Set him there!" she commanded, hardly sparing a glance for the six men who stood in the doorway as she hurriedly washed her hands so she could look at him. "Let me see him!"

Gently, she began to clean and examine his wounds. Suddenly, she pulled back as if burned. There, on his wrist were two neat little puncture wounds. His spasms were worsening by the minute, and all over his body, burnt skin was peeling off in strips, revealing new, black, leathery hide beneath. All the elves recoiled in horror as his eyes began to bleed red and he opened his mouth in a scream to reveal a long, slimy tongue and slowly elongating fangs. Nivienne jumped up and ran out, yelling orders as she went.

"Hold him down! And don't let him lick or bite any of you! Keep others away from him!!"

Nivienne pushed her brothers and husband out of the way, only barely recognizing them, so great was her fear and her haste.

Finding the nearest tree, she broke off a branch and began weaving cold mythril and silver into the jagged tip with her magic. Running back to the tent, she saw that the elf was completely calm. He opened his eyes, and for a moment, they were normal again.

"Do it." he rasped. "Please."

With tears in her eyes, Nivienne nodded and without a second glance, plunged the stake into his heart. The elf let out a shriek of rage and suddenly lunged forwards, snapping at Nivienne with his long fangs. His eyes had bled completely red and almost all his skin was black and leathery. Long, sinewy arms flailed, with new, cruel, black claws extended.

For once, Jareth was faster than an elf. Without thought, he lunged and yanked Nivienne back out of the creature's reach, before it could harm his bride.

The creature's teeth snapped shut on empty air as it struggled against the stake that pinned it to the bed. Finally, with one last shriek, it flopped back, twitching, before it let out one last shuddering breath and lay still.

"What happened?" breathed Aiden, staring at the gristly corpse.

"A vampyre… he was bitten by a vampyre…" whispered Nivienne, still wrapped in her husband's arms, her eyes wide. "Quickly!" she commanded, trying to remain strong, "Take this body outside and burn it! Make sure there is nothing left but ashes!"

The healers hurried to obey her command. Only after they had left, did Nivienne allowed herself to break. Burying her head in her husband's chest, she began to sob, clinging to him as if she was clinging to her sanity itself. Jareth clutched her tiny trembling form fiercely, stroking her back and murmuring into her hair. From where they were standing, the boys could only make out the muffled words, _It's okay…I'm here…it'll be alright…_and _I'm sorry…so, so sorry…_

As soon as Jareth had taken Nivienne into his arms, all those tormented nights away from her melted away as his very soul seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. He had his wife back; he could almost feel the Bond purring in satisfaction in the back of his mind.

As soon as her husband had touched her, relief had flooded Nivienne's heart and soul, washing away all the anguish and distress she had felt over their argument and separation for the past few days. But, even though the Bond was now satisfied, Nivienne couldn't bare to let go of Jareth; she was still too distraught over what had just happened.

After Nivienne's sobs had quieted, she turned her tearstained face to her brothers and Aiden.

"We need to warn the other troops... Vampyres cannot come past the Border of the silver trees… it will kill them. We need to order the troops to keep at least ten yards between them and the Border at all times, if not more…"

"It'll be best if we birds do it… fly over the Darkness… it'll be safer, an' our cries'll reach more troops…" said Aiden. The others nodded.

"I'll go South," said Nivienne, stepping out of the protective circle of her husband's arms. "Aiden, go North, Cayden, North-west, Gavyn, South-west. We'll meet back here in an hour."

The four elves hurried outside, and before Jareth could say anything, transformed into their avian forms. Soon, a great red-tailed hawk was winging it's way North, while two white hawks soared over the Western Front, their cries echoing through the forest. This left only a small black and white kestrel with bright blue-green eyes hovering by Jareth. Quickly, she perched on his shoulder, nuzzled his cheek, and then took off to the south, dipping and wheeling as she shrieked out her warning.

A dark shape caught Jareth's eye. Through the tops of the trees, he saw a pitch-black raven flap silently towards the Darkness. He furrowed his brows in thought as he, Alec, and Tyr all walked towards the palace to wait for their family's return.

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Night had come again, and Nivienne had been sent home from the Glade. The Mother Healer had told her to rest. After the incident with the vampyre and her long flight, the elven princess's nerves were stretched beyond the breaking point.

All the royal family sat in the throne room, with the exception of Morgaine, who was nowhere to be found.

"Prolly in her rooms… skulkin'" grumbled Aiden.

From across the table, the twins nodded, each turning to face Jareth, who sat with Nivienne close beside him, nestled in between her husband and Cayden. Jareth had hardly let her out of his sight since her return. Given her current level of stress and her need for comfort, Nivienne was not objecting. Jareth just shrugged, but then frowned, as a sudden thought struck him.

"Out of curiosity… what form does she take when she chooses to morph?'

"A raven." The Elvenking said. "Why?"

"…I saw a raven fly into the Darkness today… right after the four of you took off to warn the others…"

Everyone's eyes widened. Finally Tyr gave voice to what they all were thinking.

"Do you think she could have anything to do with the spreading Darkness…?"

"Wait…" whispered Nivienne, "She's been wearing a lot of clothes lately…"

"So…?" asked Alec, "Just another fashion change for her… you _know_ how thoughtless she is, thinking of her looks while this plague is spreading…"

"No…one of the signs of a Dark Witch is the Marks. If she _has_ called forth the Darkness, they'd begin to appear all over her body, very faintly at first, but darker as her spell grew stronger. By now, at the rate the Darkness is growing, she'd be covered in them, and they'd be very dark, indeed." Nivienne looked at her parents in horror.

"Oh, Mamma… Ada… you don't think…?"

Both monarchs looked grim.

"I don't want to believe it…" sighed Gwidon, "But it must be looked into. The Darkness would only spread this quickly and be this potent if it had been summoned. Darkness like this does not occur naturally. As much as it pains me to do so… Tyr, Alec… go get your sister… and take some guards… just in case. We shall see if our unhappy conclusion is correct..."

The brothers got up and strode down one of the corridors, ordering the guards to follow them with a simple, quick gesture. As the boys disappeared down the dim hall, Lessa slumped slightly in her throne and sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"What is it, Mamma?" asked Gavyn worriedly, "Are you ill?"

"No," the Elvenqueen smiled sadly at her son, "Just tired. I'll be alright."

"There is something on your mind, Mamma…" Nivienne narrowed her eyes at her mother, "I can see the thoughts bouncing around in your head."

Lessa looked at her youngest daughter, the smallest of smiles tugged at her mouth.

"Now is not the time for it to be revealed… all in good time, my daughter. Be patient."

The sound of clanking armored boots and creaking leather prevented any more conversation as Tyr and Alec came back in, their sister in tow, surrounded by guards. Tyr and Alec quietly returned to their places at the table and exchanged grave looks with their parents. Gwidon sighed and looked at his daughter with sad eyes.

"Morgaine… come here."

The Princess stepped forward, a guard on either side. From under the edge of her cowl, Jareth noticed a small malicious smirk spreading across her mouth.

"Yes, Father?" Her voice was cold, a slow, arrogant drawl.

"Remove your cloak, child. I would like to look at you."

"May I ask why, Father?" The smirk widened.

"A father need not explain himself to his daughter, nor a King to his subject. Remove the cloak."

The cold undercurrent of hard steel in the Elvenking's voice wiped the smirk off of Morgaine's face. Slowly, she lowered the cowl of her cape. Gwidon and Lessa's faces fell and the boys and the guards all drew their weapons as they looked upon her. Jareth just stared, his arms tightening around his wife.

Once green eyes had turned to a muddy brown with streaks of red peeking thru'. Her long blond hair was now shot through with streaks of purple and red and, worst of all, swirling black patterns traced their lines across her pale skin, crawling up her slender neck and ending on her left cheekbone. Morgaine's smirk had slid into a sneer as she stared with hateful eyes at the shocked and dismayed faces of her family.

"Why, my daughter?" The Elvenqueen whispered.

"Why?" Morgaine mocked her mother, "Because you and Father always denied me my rights as eldest daughter in favor of _her_!" She pointed an accusing finger at Nivienne. "The power that should have been mine was given to her instead! _She_ got the position of Mother Healer! _She_ got the marriage to the Goblin King! That all should have gone to _me_!"

Morgaine took a deep breath and continued in a lower voice, sinister and cold.

"Since you were all determined to deny me my rightful power, I decided to find the means to take it on my own… and, in my search, I found an even greater power, so I took that instead! The power to summon the Darkness! The power to rule the world! If I couldn't rule by right in a world of light, then I will rule by force in a world of darkness!"

Morgaine looked up at her parents. But instead of the fear and guilt she had hoped to see, she only found sad resignation. Lessa stood and regally glided down to her eldest daughter where she began to circle the girl. Gwidon just sat on his throne, watching.

"I would thank you, Morgaine Aulaybran, for proving to the king and I that our decision was indeed the correct one." The Wyldfae's voice was as hard as stone. "You have just shown yourself to be power-mad and willing to destroy the world, and even yourself, to grasp at power that was never rightfully yours."

A small grain of fear began to nibble at Morgaine's heart.

"Oh yes," Lessa's smile was deadly, "it will destroy you, child. Surely you have noticed? Aching bones and joints? Little age spots and imperfections marring your body? Bruises or burst blood vessels under your skin, perhaps? Your body cannot contain the Darkness that you have invited into it, so it is eating itself from the inside in an attempt to rid itself of the Taint."

The Elvenqueen stopped her circling and looked into Morgaine's Tainted eyes. Softening her voice, Lessa gently lifted her daughter's chin.

"If you would live, you must let go of this resentment and power-lust. Even if you were to create an empire, you would die before you could rule over it. Please, my daughter, send this Darkness back from whence it came, and allow us to heal you."

Mother and daughter locked eyes, and for a long moment, Morgaine seemed to waver. But, whatever hold the Wyldfae's words had on her shattered as the Dark Witch slapped her mother's hand away. Morgaine backed up, snarling.

"No! You lie!"

With a final shriek of rage and hate, the Tainted elven princess took on her raven form and flew out the window in a swirling gust of black smoke.

* * *

**A/N: My thanks again to my faithful reviewers: _notwritten_ and _Gem of the Stars;_ you two rock! Here's another chappie for you!**

**- Reese  
**


	13. In Which Good Things Come to an End

**Don't own _Labyrinth..._ never have... never will... *breaks down into hiccuping sobs***

* * *

**Chapter 12**

As soon as Morgaine fled, Lessa collapsed limply to the floor.

Instantly, her husband and her children were at her side. Sinking to his knees, Gwidon gently scooped his wife into his lap and cradled her against his chest. The Elvenqueen was crying softly. The twins exchanged worried glances and shuffled their feet awkwardly before Cayden knelt down and held his mother's hand and Gavyn placed a comforting hand on his father's shoulder. Tyr and Alec soon joined them; Tyr stroking his mother's shoulder and Alec standing in between the twins, gripping both their shoulders. Aiden was there, head bowed, resting one hand on Tyr's shoulder and wrapping his other arm around Nivienne, who hadn't been far behind. She wrapped her arms around her father's neck and rested her chin on his shoulder.

Jareth, feeling very much the intruder at the moment, watched as the Elven Royal Family closed ranks together, drawing strength from each other's presence as they mourned the loss of their sister, daughter, and cousin. Lessa was the first to speak.

"Come," she said, standing and wiping her eyes, "We must call the Council and tell the Fae Lords that we have discovered who has brought this plague upon us."

All the elves exchanged sad looks and slowly nodded as they followed her to the table. Jareth had never seen any of them look so worn. Quickly he held up his hand and, with a deft flick of his wrist, summoned a crystal.

"Allow me." He said. The Elven monarchs nodded wearily.

The crystal glowed pale blue for a second before the face of the Oracle appeared. The wizened old Fae looked up and locked eyes with Jareth.

"Yes, Goblin King. Why do you call so late? I am sensing trouble and sadness around you. And Darkness, much Darkness. You call me from the Front, yes?"

"Yes, Oracle, I call from the Forest. I am with the Elven rulers. They have important information to share with the Council. I would ask you to call an emergency meeting."

"I will not refuse. In this time of strife, we must always be ready to answer each other's calls. We shall all convene at the Great Palace tomorrow before High Noon."

"I thank you, Oracle. We shall arrive with the Dawn."

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Jareth lay in bed, watching Nivienne comb out her long hair; the dark curls glistened, reflecting golden highlights in the candlelight. The elven monarchs had insisted that he and Nivienne spend the night, so the two of them occupied the same rooms that they had on the night of their wedding.

Not much had been said about their argument at the Council meeting, and even though it seemed to have been forgotten in the events of the day, Jareth knew that they had to talk about it. Despite the fact that all seemed forgiven, he did not want to go to sleep before he knew for sure.

"You know, we're going to have to talk about our… disagreement…" Jareth began.

Nivienne sighed and, putting her brush on the nightstand, turned to face her husband.

"Do we have to tonight?"

"Yes, we do… this is big… and we can't afford to let it fester into something bigger."

Nivienne walked over and sat at Jareth's feet on the side of the bed. Tucking her bare feet under her midnight blue nightgown, she pushed a strand of hair behind her pointed ear and looked at her husband.

"I never betrayed you."

Jareth winced at her cold tone. He knew that she was just hiding her hurt behind an icy mask, and that hurt him more than any amount of her anger ever would.

"I know. I was angry that you didn't support my decision and… I was scared that the other Fae would use you against me in a bid for my throne." Jareth gently took his wife's hand and pulled her up, closer to him so he could look her in the eyes. "But I never should have called you a traitor."

"No… you shouldn't have." Nivienne paused, biting her lower lip. "But I should have understood that you were worried about your realm and stayed to support you. A queen does not desert her kingdom just because she has a fight with its king… and a wife does not desert her husband… no matter how much of a git he may be"

Jareth couldn't help but smile at the playful insult. If she was teasing him, she must have forgiven him, but still, it was important that he hear the words.

"So… am I forgiven for being such an ass?" He asked hopefully.

Nivienne just smiled and burrowed her head into his shoulder.

"Maybe…" She giggled at his crestfallen look. "Alright… yes, I forgive you." She suddenly became deadly serious. "_Never_ call me a traitor again, Jareth. Don't even imply it. I mean it. I _will not_ betray you. Next time, tell me what's really bothering you, instead of lashing out at me. I think our marriage will go more smoothly if we actually talk to each other."

Jareth pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Agreed."

"Am _I_ forgiven?" Nivienne's voice was soft. "For running away?"

"Oh you precious thing!" Jareth chuckled softly. "Of course."

With that, a peaceful silence fell over the two. Hearts and minds now content, they proceeded to assure each other of their love and devotion, finally allowing themselves to give in to the needs and desires awakened by their Marriage Bond.

The night wore on and soon the moon rose over two sleeping Fae, wrapped in each other's arms.

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The Elven Royal Family rose before dawn, all preparing to go to the Great Palace. Normally, the carriages would be summoned and supplies and luggage packed up, but as this was an emergency, they all decided to transport themselves there, instead of arriving in the usual grand manner.

Jareth left his wife to dress and hurried out to the courtyard to join his elven in-laws. Gwidon and Lessa both gave him tired smiles and the irrepressible boys all gathered around him, asking about their sister.

"So…" grinned Gavyn, "did you have to suffer her wrath last night?"

"Did she kick you to the couch?" Cayden cut in.

"Actually," A feminine voice interrupted, "We discussed it like the rational adults we are." Nivienne walked up and gave each of her brothers a kiss on the cheek.

"But you never let us off that easily!" protested Aiden.

"Yeah. We never get out of an argument without at least one bruise!" Tyr grumbled. Turning to Jareth, he explained, "She is scarily accurate when she starts throwing things…"

Jareth smirked. "I think she just likes me better than you."

"Boys… I simply don't have the energy or the inclination to prolong this fight with my husband." Nivienne's eyes turned sad. "We don't have the luxury of bearing grudges right now… these times are dark enough without us adding more anger and hatred to them."

Her sad comment instantly sobered all of them as they all remembered why the Darkness had been brought upon them in the first place. The oppressive silence was interrupted only by Lessa coming to get her sons and nephew for the departure. The elves gathered by Gwidon, and with a sudden swirl of leaves and wind, they all winked out, leaving Jareth with Nivienne. Wrapping a protective arm around his wife, Jareth conjured a crystal. One moment later, the courtyard lay empty, with only a fine sprinkle of blue glitter fluttering through the air.

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A muted pop sounded in the great stone hall as the Goblin Rulers appeared. A short distance away stood Gwidon and Lessa, talking to the Oracle. Jareth and Nivienne quickly stepped up to stand behind them with the rest of the elves. Absently, Nivienne reached up and brushed a stray leaf out of Cayden's hair.

"We thought we should tell you first, Oracle," Gwidon was saying, "that we now know how this Darkness has descended upon us."

"Our daughter Morgaine, has committed a grave crime," continued Lessa sadly, "and has willingly given herself to the Darkness. She managed to conceal that she was a Dark Witch long enough to summon this Darkness and feed off it."

"This is grave news, indeed." stated the Oracle. "It is good that you have called Council. We shall now all decide how to end this threat. There will be no more deliberation. We know our enemy now; all we need do is decide how best to fight."

The old Centaur looked sadly at the Elven Rulers.

"I am sorry that it has come to this. No parents should have to plan the death of their own child."

Both bowed their heads sadly as the Oracle continued.

"The other Fae Lords have been arriving for the past few moments. The meeting shall commence in 15 minutes. If you will join me in the Council Chamber," he gestured to the elven family, "we shall await them."

The Oracle turned to Jareth and Nivienne.

"Would the two of you be so kind as to mingle with the other Fae Lords?"

Jareth bowed as Nivienne dropped a curtsy.

"Of course."

Jareth took his wife's arm and the two of them made their way into the entry hall to join the other Fae Lords. Most of them were already there, with only a few popping in every few minutes. As soon as they entered, Nivienne was hailed by the dragon, Fafnyr, and his mate, Gwynyr. Giving her husband's arm a gentle squeeze, she glided over to them, leaving Jareth standing amidst the other High Sidhe. A sudden low rumble and a blast of hot air next to him that smelled of molten metal caused Jareth to turn with a small smile. His old friend, Haldor, king of the dwarves, stumped forward, brushing small bits of ash from his cloak. Cocking his head to look up at his friend, Haldor's eyes glittered at Jareth from under his bushy eyebrows. The two clasped arms in a less formal greeting.

"It is good to see you, old friend." Despite his efforts, Jareth couldn't conceal the smile that began to spread across his face.

"Aye, i'tis, laddy!!" boomed the Dwarf King, not bothering to hide his grin. "Been far too long… Ah hope's yer doin' weel?" This last query was uttered with a significant glance towards Nivienne.

"All is well in my kingdom, old friend," Jareth looked at the old dwarf fondly, "As well as it can be during these times of Darkness."

"Is good te hear," Haldor smiled, his leathery skin crinkling around the eyes, "Ye'd best keep a hold o' that elven lass… she's a right gem o' a girl… t'will be hard te find one who's better."

"Believe me," Jareth watched his wife as the centaurs joined her and the Dragon Lords, "I never plan on letting her go again."

Before the conversation could continue further, a bell began to toll, its deep knolls summoning the Lords to Council. Nivienne rejoined her husband and took his arm, giving a genuine smile to Haldor, who kissed her hand with a surprising amount of gallantry for one as rustic as he was known to be, as they all filed into the Council Chamber.

The Fae Lords were all swiftly seated. Jareth and Nivienne took their places by Gwidon and Lessa, while Haldor sat across the Table by the Dragon Lords and the Merfolk. The Oracle moved to the head of the Table and addressed the assembled Fae.

"I thank you all for your swiftness. The rulers of the Moonglade have news for us, news that may help us turn the tide of this war before we are consumed."

Gwidon and Lessa rose. Both looked old and worn, weary to the bone.

"Our eldest daughter has committed the gravest of crimes, against her kinfolk and country, and against all the Faefolk." Gwidon sighed as he continued, his grief written plainly on his face. "Morgaine Aulaybran of the Moonglade is the one who has brought this curse out of its slumber and called Darkness from the Deep Forest to consume us all."

The Council erupted. Shouts of outrage and dismay flew thru' the air as the Fae Lords gave full vent to their shock and sense of outraged betrayal.

"A Dark Witch? In this day and age??"

"How did this happen??"

"The Elves have loosed an evil that will destroy us all!"

"How could this have gone on so long without our knowledge??"

"… must have been some sort of willful blindness on their part…"

"They knew all along! They're all traitors!!"

"SILENCE!!"

The Goblin King's roar startled them all. He was half-standing, cape and hair fluttering in the wake of his rage as his aura of power dissipated. He fixed all the Lords with a stern glare, fists curled upon the table. Quietly, he spoke through clenched teeth.

"The Elven Monarchs have come here to try and turn the tide of the war and save us all, at the price of their family honor… How _dare_ you revile them?? They have been fighting this evil longer and more closely than any of you… do you really think they would have kept fighting this long if they were in league with the witch?? How dare--"

The Elvenking cut him off.

"But they are right, my son… we were blind… we suspected a witch… but we looked in the wrong places…even after – to have not seen Morgaine's treachery earlier shows grave negligence on the part of the Elves. To have ignored what was right before our eyes…"

The Elvenking bowed his head.

"The Kingdom of the Moonglade can only beg for the Council's forgiveness that we did not see this before now."

The other Fae Lords were oddly silent. Despite their fear and outrage, none of the Lords got any relief by seeing the Elvenking be humiliated so. If anything, watching the noble old Fae, normally so tall and proud, as he stood in his place, head bowed in shame, made the situation worse.

Fafnyr was the first to speak. His rumbling hiss resounded through the hall.

**"IT IS USELESSS TO POINT TALONSSS. LET USSS PLAN OUR SSSTRIKE THEN, AND FORGET WHO WE FEEL ISSS TO BLAME."**

One by one the other Lords nodded their assent. Gwidon sat down, and the planning began.

All the Underground prepared for war.

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**A/N: More reviews!!! *Squeee!!!!!* Many, many thanks to _notwritten, Gem of the Stars_, and _wackydreams_ for their kind reviews!!! Another chapter for you three!!  
**

**-Reese**


	14. In Which the Nightmare Returns

**I definitely don't own _Labyrinth_... though, right now I wish I did... it seems much safer than this little world I've concocted....  
**

* * *

**Chapter 13**

A rude camp had been set up at the very border between the Moonglade and the Deep. A thick mud wall had been erected from the earth itself, reinforced with sharpened stakes, logs, and large boulders, veined through with mythril and silver, and lit only by the yellow glow of a thousand torches. A single rough stone stairwell ran up its inner wall to the ramparts in the center, everywhere else, crude log ladders had been erected. The elves had hurriedly fashioned makeshift huts out of the remaining trees and set up rough hide covered tents throughout the rest of the camp.

Except for the trees, all vegetation was dead, leaving only bare, hard-packed soil underfoot. Even the trees, though still alive - sustained by elven magic - suffered, their twisted branches weighed down by thick, flabby leaves, tainted and withered by the surrounding Dark.

This ruined strip of land, once as beautiful and fertile as the rest of the Moonglade, had been dubbed by the Rangers simply as Sgàth.

Here, the Darkness dimmed everything; what little light straggled down through the Taint was weak and dirty. Here, the whispers and murmurings of the demons on the other side rose to a constant howl, whirling through the camp like a chilling, blighted wind. Here, where hope was at its weakest and courage at its lowest, here was where the Fae were to make their last stand.

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Jareth stepped out of one of the larger tree-huts, dressed in his full battle regalia. The torchlight bounced off the midnight blue crystals that studded his matte black armor. He was searching for his wife.

Slipping in and out of the various Fae battalions, the Goblin King made his way through the camp. Finally he heard her voice drift out from inside the "war room", the largest tent in the center of the camp. Lifting the flap, Jareth walked in to find Nivienne, the rest of her family, and some of the other Fae generals bent over a map, pointing at various spots as they discussed potential attack plans. All were dressed ready for battle.

Upon hearing the Goblin King enter, everyone looked up. With a courteous nod to the generals and a quick bow to Lessa and Gwidon, Jareth walked over to Nivienne and, whispering something in her ear, guided her out of the tent, one hand on the small of her back, the other gripping her upper arm. Once they were out of earshot of the tent, Jareth rounded on his wife.

"What is this??" he demanded, gesturing at her attire, "What do you think you're doing??"

"_This_ is typical Elven battle gear and I _was_ preparing for the upcoming assault." Nivienne resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her husband.

Jareth began to splutter, looking Nivienne up and down. The petite Goblin Queen was wearing a long silver-blue tunic that went down to her ankles and had long slits along the sides up to her mid-thighs to provide a better range of motion. The tunic was sleeveless, leaving her right arm bare, save for a leather wrist guard inlaid with silver. Over the tunic, Nivienne wore a fitted mythril breastplate with a shoulder piece and arm guards that covered the whole of her left arm down to the knuckles of her hand. Hardened leather sandals and shin guards fitted her legs snugly up to her knees. Her dark hair was back in a single, thick plait, tied at the end with a leather thong adorned with four black and white kestrel feathers.

The armor Jareth could understand and even appreciate, what distressed him was the full quiver of mythril-tipped arrows, the freshly strung bow, and the bone-handled silver knife that his wife had strapped to her back.

"You don't _actually_ believe that you'll be involved in the _fighting_, do you?" Jareth was incredulous.

"All elves are trained as warriors from a young age…" Nivienne was starting to get frustrated. "I can fight as well as any man! Besides –"

"That's not the point! You are _my wife_! I won't have you fighting on the front lines and risking yourself –"

Jareth's tirade was cut off by Nivienne's gentle kiss. She pulled back with a small smile and understanding eyes.

"Beloved, I'll be on the ramparts with the other archers. After the initial covering fire, I'll be down with the healers, out of harm's way... I'll only return to the fight if I am needed... and then only serving as a sniper."

"You don't need a knife to fight as an archer…" Jareth growled sullenly, eyes narrowing as he looked down at his wife.

"But I _will_ need it if demons or other Dark creatures breach the wall…"

"We won't let that happen." Jareth cut in quickly.

"Just in case, Jareth. Just in case."

Jareth sighed, somewhat mollified by her explanation, and pulled the elven girl to his chest. Nivienne smiled sadly as she pressed her cheek to his hard breastplate.

"We'll survive this, Pet… I promise."

There was no time to say anything else, for at that moment, a sudden violent wind overtook the camp. For a moment, everything went still; the Demons stopped their howling at the walls, the Fae froze in shock, even the trees were still, their ominous creaking muted by this overwhelming, terrible hush. The Darkness had struck first.

Then the camp exploded in a crazed flurry of motion. The Demons' howling resumed, coupled with the sound of claws scraping hard-packed earth. Fae battalions rushed into their battle formations, ready to pour from the gate, swords and spears raised. Three ringing trumpet blasts cut through the noise of shouting commanders and of running, booted feet. Elven archers flooded the ramparts, stringing bows as they went, ready to begin picking off the approaching monsters. Dwarven mechanics loaded the catapults, piling stones and spiked steel balls high in the baskets.

Time again stood still; each and every sound echoing through the Fae's ears, drowning out all other sensation. Three more trumpet blasts. The anguished moaning of the gates opening. The creaking of Elven bows drawn back. The muffled thumping and squeaking of leather and chain mail as the Fae waited for the signal, nerves taut, Adrenaline high, ready to charge.

The final three trumpet calls, and in a single voice, the Fae roared in defiance of their foe, pouring through the opened gates, hacking and slashing through the Dark hordes on the other side. With booming finality, the heavy gates crashed shut behind them, halting the Demons' advance, preventing the Fae's retreat.

Above the battle din, a sudden, sharp whizzing could be heard as death rained down from above; the dark sky was obscured as a blanket of Elven arrows descended upon the battlefield, each mythril-tipped shaft finding its mark in the throat of a demon or a vampyre.

When the Fae first charged out, the suddenness of their strike had pushed the startled Demons back. But for every Dark creature that fell, another materialized out of the gloom to replace it. Still, the Fae pressed their advantage, forcing the evil back, away from the walls.

Jareth found himself in the very center of the battle, back to back with Tyr. Both men were expert swordsmen and between the two of them, many demons died.

Jareth's world had condensed down to himself and the man at his back as they stood in the center of a macabre whirl of blood, claws, fangs, and glowing red eyes.

His two swords licked in and out, turning demons to ash with each stroke. Blood spattered his armor. Was it his, Tyr's, some poor Fae's who had succumbed to the teeth and claws of a Hellhound? He didn't know. He existed only as a machine, raising one sword to block an enraged vampyre's clawed strike, sliding the other between his assailant's ribs. Oily black blood oozed out around the blade. Before the creature could react, Jareth had swung his free sword around and sent its head flying free from its body, the silver blade slicing cleanly through blackened hide and burning the remaining corpse to dust. Time ceased to have any meaning as he raised his arms, dealing stroke after stroke, felling every demon that came within his reach. Jareth the Man had retreated, leaving only Jareth the Sword, aware of nothing except the need to survive. All around him, the furious howling of the Dark mingled with the pained shrieks of the dying.

A low hiss from Tyr indicated that he'd been hurt, but the Elf kept fighting, dagger in one hand, rapier in the other, both blurring and buzzing around their owner as he hacked and slashed a path through the Dark hordes, back to the gates. Briefly, he caught sight of the twins, each with their glaive, ducking and whirling their way through the fray, blue eyes glowing with a cold fire, mouths turned upward in a matching set of feral grins.

Suddenly, without warning, the Fae dropped back. Delighted, the Demons followed, heedless of anything but their need to kill. As the Fae reached the shelter of the wall, the sound of a hundred ropes snapping caused everyone to look up. The dwarves had loosed their catapults. Thousands of the spiked steel orbs slammed down, crushing the leading monsters and impaling those that were just behind. The following rain of stones battered the slower creatures and effectively halted their advance. Elven snipers began to pick off any stragglers as the Creatures of the Dark retreated back into the shadows, re-grouping their numbers and re-gathering their strength for the next wave.

As soon as it was clear that it was safe, the gates swung open and the Fae stumbled in, returning to the safety of the torchlight and the protection of silver. Many soldiers had been wounded, some badly, others not; thankfully none had been Tainted by a vampyre's poison.

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True to her word, Nivienne had fallen back to help the healers prepare for the inevitable wave of casualties that would flood in. She spent the rest of the evening with her parents, treating soldiers, bandaging wounds, setting bones, applying salves, and giving healing draughts to those who needed it. Almost all her healing magics were used up on the various wounds that, while not life threatening, still needed more than a mere bandage or poultice. There were very few serious wounds, for, thanks to the corrupting nature of the Dark, those who were wounded that badly on the field usually became a vampyre or a demon before they could be rescued.

Tyr had acquired a nasty gash across his neck and both the twins had each managed to get a burned arm from a Hellhound. Nivienne couldn't help but shake her head as she tended their wounds.

"You two even get _wounded_ in the exact same places! How did you manage it?"

The twins only gave her tired smiles and squeezed her hands before lying back on their cots to rest before the next wave.

After tending to her brothers, Nivienne set out to find her husband. She found him sitting with Aiden and Alec around one of the fires, each nursing a mug of Dwarven beer. All three sported many scratches and a few burns, but nothing too serious. All three men looked bone-weary as they stared blankly into the crackling flames. Even Aiden, the most seasoned fighter out of the trio, seemed rather shell-shocked. Nivienne sat slowly down, nesting herself on the ground between her brother and her husband, resting her chin on Jareth's knee. Without really looking, he reached down to absently stroke her hair, his eyes never leaving the fire.

The four of them sat that way for a good hour, not speaking a single word, each lost in their own thoughts, all waiting for that horrible scratching sound that would announce the Demons' return.

Finally, one of the troop commanders came around whispering an All Clear for the night. The Demons had not reappeared, so the generals had ordered a rest period before the next attack. Slowly, Aiden and Alec got up and stretched. Excusing themselves from the fire, they said that they would take a quick turn about the ramparts before going to bed. The four Fae exchanged grim smiles; they all knew from the haunted look in each other's eyes, that none of them would sleep this night.

Once her kinfolk left, Nivienne moved into the seat that her brother had vacated. Stroking some blood-matted hair off her husband's forehead, Nivienne gave him a good look-over, trying to assure herself that he was all right. His armor was battered and dented, covered in gore and pitted by the acidic blood of a Hellhound, but did not appear to have been breached in any places. Most of the blood that covered him wasn't his own, although a gash on his forehead worried her a bit. Once the hair had been moved away from his skin, the wound had opened again and was slowly oozing blood down the side of his face. Nivienne gently tugged at Jareth's hand.

"Come on, Love; let me look at that wound."

"It's fine." He waved her off, still staring at the fire.

"Just let me clean it up a little… please…" Nivienne pleaded, tugging at his hand again.

"It's fine." Jareth's voice was dead, hard.

"Please… I can't risk it becoming infected…" Her voice began to shake, the stress of the day beginning to take its toll. "… Jareth… please?"

With a small sigh, Jareth stood and allowed his wife to lead him to their tent. Once inside, Nivienne gently sat him down on the bed, pulled off his breastplate and shirt and, seeing no blood or other wounds save for some minor cuts and bruises, began to sponge off his forehead. The wound was a shallow one, luckily. Once she had cleaned off all the dried and fresh blood, she applied the last reserves of her healing magic to close the cut. When she was done, all that was left was a thin white line that ran just above his right eyebrow back to his ear.

Exhausted, Nivienne sank back onto the bed beside her husband. She found herself wrapped in a fierce embrace as Jareth suddenly crushed her to him. Burying his face in her hair, the Goblin King let out a small whimper.

"I've been in battles before…" he whispered, "but this was worse than anything I've ever seen. Fighting against Fae is one thing… but this… this is like nothing I've ever been through."

Jareth pushed Nivienne back against the headboard so he could look at her. Clutching her shoulders and pressing his forehead to her chest, he continued.

"I saw one of our men get cut down by a Fiend… before anyone could get to him… the demon had ripped open his chest… We all heard the scream… we all thought he was dead… Suddenly he gets up, and… his eyes… he had become one of them… one of the Demons…" His voice choked off.

He had to take a few shuddering breaths before he could continue.

"The look of utter bloodlust in his eyes…. Oh, Pet, none of us had expected anything like that…. The thought of becoming like that… or worse… _you_ being Turned…." Jareth couldn't continue that train of thought.

For the rest of the night, Nivienne sat holding her husband, rocking gently back and forth, and murmuring soothing words into his ear while she gently stroked his hair until he dropped into an exhausted slumber. And so she remained, waiting for the dawn to come.

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**A/N: Many thanks to my ever-faithful readers!! You all are so awesome! Special thanks to _MentalDeath _for the lovely review and for adding my little story to your Story Alerts; it made my night! Also thanks to _notwritten_ for the faithful reviews and to _LadySparrowJack _for favoriting my tale. Much love to you all! This chapter is for you!**

**- Reese  
**


	15. In Which the Nightmare Continues

**Don't own _Labyrinth_... the ever-lucky Jim Henson does....  
I also do not own the song _The Sky, The Dawn, And The Sun_... that belongs to _Celtic Woman_.**

**Celtic Woman - A New Journey: Live at Slane Castle, Ireland 2006  
Song: _Intro and The Sky & the Dawn & the Sun_  
Singers: Hayley Westenra, Chloë Agnew, Órla Fallon, Méav Ní** **Mhaolchatha, Lisa Kelly, Mairead Nesbitt**

* * *

**Chapter 14**

Jareth awoke with a groan. Stretching and rotating his neck in an attempt to ease the stiffness that accompanied the morning after a battle, the weary monarch rolled onto his back. He had fallen asleep with his head in his wife's lap. Nivienne had dozed off as well, one arm under Jareth's neck, the other splayed over his chest. Her head had lolled to the side to rest against one of the overstuffed pillows that adorned their makeshift bed.

"What time is it?" Nivienne's mumbled inquiry startled him.

"Dunno… it's hard to tell… light doesn't change much here…"

Nivienne cracked one eye open.

"I didn't think we'd be able to sleep."

Neither said much more as they got up and dressed. Soon, they were heading to the "War Room", to get ready for the next attack.

The same numb calm that possessed Jareth and Nivienne seemed to have settled over the rest of the camp. The soldiers went about their business, saying as little as possible as they prepared for the upcoming strike. One battle was all it had taken to transform the soldiers from the spirited horde, charged with adrenaline, eager for the first blood, into this grim army, quiet in their determination.

Quietly, the Fae gathered in their battalions - Elves to the battlements, Dwarves to the catapults, the rest to the gates. When they were ready, a single flaming arrow flew out into the Dark, a deliberately arrogant challenge to the Demons beyond and their Dark Mistress.

The effect was instantaneous. Like a living thing, the Darkness writhed and surged forward, spitting forth its monsters to attack the Fae. The horrible scratching sound resumed as the Demons began to tear at the walls, howling their mindless bloodlust to the blackened skies.

Another arrow followed the first, this one a signal, shot straight up into the sky. The Demons continued their howling and ripping at the walls, seemingly oblivious to the second missile. A sudden draught of air swept over the walls, muffling all other noise in its rushing wake.

An enormous jet of flame blasted out, searing the layer of Demons that clung to the walls. Fafnyr and three full wings of Dragons swooped down, dipping and wheeling amidst the dark hordes, shooting out walls of flame across the battlefield, charring tree and Demon alike.

The Demons' bloodthirsty howls intensified into an enraged shriek as more and more of their numbers dwindled before this new onslaught. But as before, more appeared even as they fell. Still, under this unexpected method of attack, the Demons' numbers began to dwindle. Elven arrows began to zip out in-between the Dragons, picking off the Demons who had avoided being incinerated.

After engulfing three quarters of the battlefield in flames, Fafnyr and his people pulled up, retreating to the skies and hovering just out of arrow's reach to watch over the battle and give more aid if needed. It had been decided that the Dragons' participation would be limited; no one could risk one of those mighty fighters being Tainted and Turned.

The Elves continued their barrage of arrows and the Dwarves loosed their catapults. Utter chaos reigned on the battlefield as death rained down from above.

Suddenly, the Demons disappeared, swallowed back into the Darkness. Aiden ordered the archers to stand down as they all peered into the darkness. Jareth materialized on the ramparts and forced his way to stand in between Aiden and Nivienne. The Elven princess's bow was still nocked, though she had lowered it slightly. Jareth gently placed a hand on his wife's shoulder, causing her to glance back and give him a brief smile before turning back to stare grimly out at the too quiet field.

The Darkness peeled back slowly as a hooded figure glided forwards through the smoke and flames. A low growl sounded throughout the ranks of the Fae as the Dark Witch showed herself to all. Morgaine pulled back her cowl to reveal pallid skin and blood red eyes filled with hatred. Her cracked lips parted in a ghastly smile as she addressed them.

"Well played, Faefolk. Well played indeed." Her voice was a harsh, rasping whisper, one that grated out of her throat and across the ears of all who heard it.

"Will you give yourself up, Witch?" called Aiden.

"Oh, Cousin," Morgaine cackled in malicious glee. "What would give you that idea?"

"I have no cousin." Aiden's voice was hard. "You have lost everything… family, friends, now your army…"

The Dark Witch just stared at him, the malicious smirk unshaken.

"You've lost." Aiden repeated.

"Have I?" hissed the Witch, as she stepped back into the shadows.

The world seemed to explode into chaos. The Darkness that engulfed everything became as a living thing itself as Morgaine poured all her hatred into it. Demons poured forth. Within seconds, the battlefield was teeming with the horrible creatures. All the while, the Witch's evil shrieking laughter could be heard above the swirling din of battle.

Light met Dark with a clash as the Fae rushed out to engage their enemy. Patches of Dragonfire had remained lit and colored the entire battlefield in a bloody red glow. Smoke billowed forth, stinging eyes and burning lungs as the ground became slick with a mixture of oily black Demon blood and ash.

The lines of battle held at first; neither side was able to gain any ground. Slowly, however, the Demons began to push the Fae back.

Nivienne watched from the battlements. The rest of the Elves, led by her cousin, had abandoned their arrows and had charged out with the army. As always, Nivienne had gone to the healers, but had found that her parents had taken her place and were working diligently to make up for their daughter's absence. From her place in the back, Lessa was humming one of the Songs Nivienne remembered form her childhood. Only briefly did the Wyldfae look up at her daughter.

"You are needed elsewhere, Daughter... A different Healing is needed." Lessa whispered, and then resumed her Song.

So Nivienne had gone back to the ramparts, a lone figure watching the battle, trying to figure out her mother's cryptic words. Below, she could make out her husband by his white-blond hair. He was fighting back-to-back with the twins. A few feet away, Aiden and Tyr were hemmed in by Demons, but Alec was swiftly cutting a path to them. A scream started and ended abruptly as a Centaur soldier was felled. His companion, a Satyr, quickly shoved a silver arrow into the fallen soldier's chest to prevent his transformation into a Demon. Nivienne shuddered; all around her, people died and the Taint ate away at her strength of mind.

The Taint… _the Taint_… Nivienne's eyes widened. She understood what her mother wanted her to do. If the field could be purged, the cover of Darkness pushed back just long enough, the tide of battle could be turned. Demons could not stand sunlight; they would die instantly.

Only the Wyldfae of Old had possessed enough magic to summon or banish forces as powerful as the Darkness. Those ancient Fae had harnessed their wild magic through Songs of great power. As a descendant of these Fae, Lessa had taught the melodies of these Songs to both Morgaine and Nivienne as part of their heritage, though she had never really told them what the Songs were or the specific powers that they held, for merely singing the old Wyldfae Songs produced nothing; the Singer had to focus on the Song and force their will into it. The less the Singer knew of the Magic in the Songs, the less likely they were to be able to harness its specific power.

The Song that Lessa had been humming in the healers' tent was one of Nivienne's favorites.

Aqua-blue eyes glittered in determination as Nivienne steeled herself to carry out her mission.

Pulling out her daggers, the Elven princess slowly walked to the gates. Without a glance behind, she strode out into the hellish inferno and was immediately swept into the fray. Ducking and weaving, stabbing and slashing, she fought her way through the maelstrom of smoke and death to the middle of the battlefield. There, covered in cuts and bruises, she stood and Sang.

_High is the moon tonight__  
Hiding it's guiding light  
High…_

It had been eons since anyone had heard a Wyldfae truly Sing. It wasn't a human sound; it rose high above the battle din, growing louder and louder, drowning out the Dark Witch's evil laughter and bringing new hope to the Fae soldiers. From her place in the shadows, Morgaine drew in a furious breath as she recognized her sister's voice.

_Heaven and Earth do sleep  
Still in the Dark so deep  
I will the Darkness sweep…_

Everything stopped. The Demons froze and began to cower in fear, for they had heard this Song before, long ago, when they were first banished to the Deep. The Fae froze in shock. Everyone looked about frantically, trying to locate the Singer.

_I will the moon to flight  
I will the heavens bright  
I will the Earth delight_

_Open you eyes with me  
See Paradise with me  
Awake and arise with me…_

Jareth was the first to find her. Terror flooded his veins as he saw his gentle little wife standing in the middle of the battle, eyes closed, arms limp, swords lowered, completely defenseless.

Before he could move, her song changed again and she began to glow.

_I am the Dawn, I'm the New Day begun  
I bring you the morning; I bring you the sun  
I hold back the Night and I open the skies  
I give Light to the world, I give sight to your eyes._

The blood that oozed from the cuts that covered her arms and face began to burst into white flames as she summoned all the power of her Wyldfae heritage to her. Her glow continued to grow stronger as her Song grew wilder and more passionate.

_From the first of all Time, until Time is undone  
Forever and ever and ever and ever  
I am the sky and the dawn and the sun  
I am one with the One and I am the Dawn!_

At the crescendo, her eyes snapped open, orbs of brilliant aqua-green fire, filled to the brim with barely restrained power. Flinging her arms out, teeth bared in a feral smile, Nivienne allowed the Song to consume her. Huge white wings erupted from her shoulders.

_I am the sky and the dawn and the sun  
I am the sky and the New Day begun  
I am the sky and the dawn and the sun!!!_

Engulfed in white fire, the petite Fae shot into the sky, a brilliant flying comet in the Darkness.

The light of her magic caused the Darkness to shatter. It peeled back, burnt away by Nivienne's blazing power, leaving a bright blue gash in the otherwise dim and Tainted sky. Sunlight streamed down through the tear, killing every Dark thing it touched. The Darkness continued to recoil, until the entire field was engulfed in the early morning sunlight. Demons screamed; those that could not catch up to the retreating Darkness were burnt alive, their ashes swirling through the battlefield. Within moments, the Darkness had completely dissipated, pushed back into the Deep where it belonged.

The Fae had won.

From the battlements of the Sgàth fortress, Lessa stood watching. A lone tear trickled down her cheek.

"Well done, my daughter… well done."

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**A/N: Ahhh, my wonderful readers! You all never cease to make my nights!! Many thanks to _notwritten, Gem of the Stars, MentalDeath, _and _Buffy Sparrow _for the very kind and lovely reviews! I'm glad that my little story pleases you all!**

**Also, for the actual song, ****_The Sky, The Dawn, And The Sun _by _Celtic Woman, _see the Youtube link on my profile.**

**- Reese  
**


	16. In Which We Have a Reprieve

**I'm sure that by now, thanks to my repeated repetitions, you are all aware (as I am... painfully so, at times) the I do not own _Labyrinth._  


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**

**Chapter 15**

The battle was over.

The Fae soldiers stood in an empty, desolate field, each clutching his weapon close and staring open-mouthed at the clear morning sky. It was only when Alec caught sight of his eldest sister trying to slink into the Deep that their stupor broke. Signaling his brothers, the four of them grimly took off to apprehend her.

Jareth could not have cared less about whether or not his Tainted sister-in-law was captured. He frantically scanned the skies, searching for any sign of his wife. As his mismatched eye repeatedly raced from one end of the horizon to the other, a hoarse shout caused him to whip around; a Centaur was rearing and calling his name.

There, in a crumpled heap on the ground, lay Nivienne. She was on her back, covered in cuts and bruises and one of her arms and her left leg was bent at an odd angle, but she was still breathing, if only barely.

Jareth was at her side in an instant, but before he could touch her, a small hand reached out to stop him. Enraged, Jareth rounded on the intruder only to confront the aqua-blue eyes of the Elvenqueen.

"Before you touch my daughter, allow me to heal her."

Lessa's voice was smooth, soft, and in no way soothing to the Goblin King's anxious nerves. With a barely suppressed snarl, he brusquely motioned for her to get on with it, attempting to hide his anxiety with a vicious sneer.

Shaking her head at her son-in-law's transparency, Lessa knelt over her daughter. She stayed in that position for over a half hour, mending bones and closing the more serious gashes. Finally, to Jareth's immense relief, Lessa stood shakily.

"Fear not, Jareth, your wife will live… it may be some time before she fully recovers… but she _will_ live."

Jareth nodded his thanks as he gently scooped his unconscious wife up. She was still covered in bruises and minor cuts, but all life-threatening injuries had been tended.

Before he could transport them to the Labyrinth, Alec and the boys returned, a bound and gagged Morgaine in tow. The ruined Elven girl glared at all of them as best she could, but it was obvious that the sunlight had greatly weakened her. Alec roughly shoved her forward.

"What do we do with _this_?"

"For now… contain her in whatever manner you wish…" Jareth couldn't keep from snapping. "I have more important things to care about than what is done with her."

All the brothers let out cries of dismay at the sight of their littlest sister unconscious. Morgaine merely hissed.

"I shall send word when she awakens."

With that, the Goblin King summoned a crystal and disappeared to his Labyrinth, leaving the horrors of Sgàth behind.

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When Jareth appeared in his throne room, he was immediately surrounded by Goblins, all clamoring for attention, despite the best efforts of his harried steward to keep them calm. Once the little creatures caught sight of their King's battered appearance and their Queen unconscious in his arms, the nature of their racket changed from shouts of welcome and demands for attention to cries of dismay.

"King hurt!! Oh, bad, bad day!!"

"Oh! Pretty Majesty! Why Pretty Majesty is being sleeping??"

"Cuts and Bruises!! Majesties all banged up!!"

"Why? Not good!!"

"Look at Blargl's chicken!!!"

"No chickens! Majesties is hurted!!"

"QUIET!"

Jareth's stern command quelled the noise instantly.

"We're both all right. 'Pretty Majesty' just needs to rest and so do I. Once we feel better, we'll both tell you the story of our adventures while we were gone. Until then, keep quiet, stay out of mischief, and, for the love of the Faefolk, get those chickens back in the lower throne room where they belong!"

The goblins scrambled to obey as Jareth waded through the crowd, kicking a few of them just for good measure, until he reached the stairwell. Breaking free of the knee-high mob, the Goblin King hurried up to the Royal Wing of the castle and into the Queen's Chambers.

Gently, he laid Nivienne on her bed and placed a crystal on her chest. Immediately, her battle gear was transformed into a soft sea-green silken nightgown. Shedding his own armor and kicking off his boots, Jareth sank into a plush chair beside her bed and leaned his head back.

Just as he was about to let himself doze off, a pair of muffled pops startled his battle-stretched senses into awareness. Wearily lifting his head, Jareth saw Wert and Snerb quietly make their way into the Queen's Chamber. Both little goblins climbed onto the foot of the bed and curled up by their sleeping queen's feet. Wert noticed Jareth's stare and whispered with a toothy goblin smile,

"King go sleep now. We's be watching Pretty Majesty. No worries, Wert is waking King up when Pretty Majesty is stopping sleeping."

Jareth couldn't help but smile at the little goblins.

"I thank you, little ones."

With that, the exhausted monarch fell asleep under the watchful eyes of two of his most loyal creatures.

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Because Nivienne remained unconscious for a week and a half, Jareth ran his kingdom as best he could from her bedside, leaving only when it was absolutely necessary. Wert and Snerb were constantly popping in and out, delivering messages to and from Jareth and bringing in meals as the king worked tirelessly to straighten out matters in his Labyrinth.

Despite the steady nature and clear head that Jareth's steward possessed, it had not been enough to fully control the mischievous goblins. Like any overwhelmed babysitter, the steward had finally taken to picking his battles, so many little issues that Jareth would have stopped immediately had been allowed to grow. The chickens in the formal throne room had only been the beginning of the goblins' mischief.

Apparently, the last three runners of the Labyrinth had been willingly ushered into the goblins' throne room by the playful little creatures. Jareth's steward assured him that they had still failed because, instead of running to finish their task, the runners allowed the goblins to ply them with copious amounts of Goblin Ale, thus resulting in a series of rip-roaring failures, despite the fact that all three of the runners made it to the castle with several hours to spare.

Thanks to these little 'parties' that the goblins threw with their new 'playmates', Jareth was now being forced to endure hour after hour of various off-key drinking songs (one of the runners had been of Irish descent and worked in a pub) that rang through the stone walls of his castle, ranging from "The Pub With no Beer" to "I'll Drink Whatever I Like".

Still, Jareth had to admit that, all annoyances aside, the goblins had provided a good distraction for the runners. This being the case, instead of having a mass head-dunking in the Bog, Jareth cleared a meadow in his Labyrinth, filled it with a never-ending supply of ale and food, and banished the lot of the singing goblins to run an everlasting party by the entrance to the Hedge Maze outside the Goblin City. The goblins were overjoyed with their new assignment, and bounded off to obey their king, all the while singing their version of "All for Me Grog".

In between re-assigning goblins, having his castle cleaned from tower to oubliette (something about goblins, an Aboveground substance known as espresso, – which had been stolen off of a runner who had been in an ale-induced haze at the time – and a rogue chicken… Jareth _still_ couldn't get the story straight), and dealing with the mounds of paperwork that had accumulated in his absence, Jareth could be found fretting over his wife. More than once, Wert found his king fast asleep, his head resting cheek to cheek with her on her pillow. On these occasions, Wert would have Snerb watch over the monarchs while he patrolled the halls outside the door, warning others away so that "the Majesties could sleep".

Finally, on a particularly sunny afternoon, Nivienne woke up. Jareth was staring moodily at a parchment, pretending to read it so that his steward would leave him alone. He was just about to give up and go find a goblin to kick when a light fluttering sensation across the Bond caused him to start. Looking up, he caught sight of a small movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked over to see Snerb peering intently at his queen.

Nivienne's hand had moved.

Jareth was at the bedside in an instant, watching her face anxiously. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. Rubbing her hand across her eyes, Nivienne looked around her, trying to orient herself. Finally her eyes rested on her husband.

"Jareth?"

He didn't even bother to try and hide his elated grin as he grabbed her hand.

"Yes, Pet."

"Did it work? Did we win?"

Jareth began to laugh as he swept his wife up into a tight hug.

"Oh you precious thing! Yes, whatever it was that you did worked. We won; Morgaine is captured and the Darkness was resealed within the Deep."

He pulled back and shook her gently, eyes serious despite the small grin that just simply refused to leave.

"Whatever it was that you did… don't _ever_ do it again! I don't think I could take it… I thought you were _dead_, Pet."

Jareth turned to Snerb, who was beaming happily and wriggling about like a puppy.

"Go to the Moonglade and tell Gwidon, Lessa, and the boys that Nivienne has awoken."

Snerb grinned and promptly disappeared with a muffled pop. Before Nivienne could say anything, Wert popped in, grinning from ear to ear. He hopped onto the bed and bounced around at the foot of it.

"Pretty Majesty is awake! Happy day! Wert happy! Snerb happy too! No more Sad King!!! Happy, happy, happy!!!"

And so, bowing to both his monarchs and giving Nivienne another beaming smile, Wert popped out to go relay the news that 'Pretty Majesty" was finally awake. Nivienne stared at the spot where the little goblin had been and then looked at Jareth, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"It would seem I was missed."

Nothing more was said for a while, for Jareth, unable to restrain himself any longer, swept his wife back and kissed her soundly, determined to show her _just how much_ she had been missed. This went on for quite a while, until a soft coughing caught Nivienne's attention. Pulling away from her husband, she looked up and promptly turned bright red.

There, at the foot of the bed, standing amidst a few scattered leaves, stood her family with Snerb perched on Cayden's shoulder.

Lessa and Gwidon shared a knowing look before smiling at their disheveled daughter as she attempted to smooth out her tousled curls. The five boys just stared before bursting into laughter at their little sister's discomfort. Jareth merely flashed his in-laws a smug smirk as he stood to greet them, straightening his tunic as he did so.

"I don't suppose you could have transported to the hallway and knocked?" he drawled.

"And miss out on Niv's reaction to being walked in on? I think not!" crowed an unabashed Gavyn.

"Although the sight of my little cousin makin' out with my best friend is one I could've done without…" Aiden muttered.

Gwidon smiled sheepishly before walking around the bed to see his daughter.

"Our apologies, my son." The Elvenking's eyes twinkled. "We merely wished to see our daughter. How are you feeling, my Nivienne?"

"Much better, Ada. I thank you."

Gracefully climbing out of bed to stand beside her husband, Nivienne smiled at her family before turning to her husband.

"Beloved," she murmured, "if you would take our family into the Library, I'll get dressed and then ask Wert to fetch us some tea…"

Jareth smirked and nodded and, placing a final kiss on her forehead, ushered his in-laws out of the Queen's Chamber and into the Library across the hall. Nivienne joined them a little while later, dressed in a flowing royal blue gown and carrying a tray of cups and a plate full of goodies. Jareth relieved her of the tray immediately, reminding her that she had only just recovered from her ordeal. Such husbandly concern only earned him a mock glare and a light swat on the arm. Once everyone had been served and had made themselves comfortable, the talk began.

"How goes the restoration of the Moonglade, Ada?"

"It goes well, my dear. The Darkness has been completely purged from the kingdom and is now sealed back in the Deep as it was before."

"The boys an' I just got back from a patrol," grinned Aiden. "It's as it was before the War of the Dark Witch. Excitin' but not deadly. The Demons were too scared to come within 20 yards o' the Border."

"Unfortunately, we cannot heal Sgàth." sighed Lessa. "It absorbed too much of the Taint to ever be normal again…. We'll have to leave it in its ruined condition, I'm afraid."

"Let it stand." Jareth countered. "Every war needs a memorial. Leave the fortress and allow the valley to stay barren for as long as it will. Maybe it will serve as a reminder and a warning to future generations."

"A good idea, my son." smiled Gwidon. "There is no more fitting monument to this war than the place where we fought and won."

"What's to be done with Morgaine?" Nivienne wanted to know.

"Her trial is to be held in two weeks' time at the Great Palace. Her fate will be decided there." Alec looked grim.

"May justice be done." growled Tyr, raising his cup.

The sentiment was echoed by everyone in the room amidst raised glasses.

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**A/N: Thanks, of course to _notwritten, MentalDeath, and Buffy Sparrow_ for their lovely reviews of the last chapter, and again to _Buffy Sparrow_ for favoriting my story. Stuff like that keeps me posting!  
**

**Now, a question for you all: Once this is finished, shall I continue with a sequel or a companion piece of some sort? I had mentioned (in Ch. 6, I believe) our boys riding around the Silver Border, so I could write a story about their adventures there or I could do a direct sequel and have it focus on Jareth and his immediate family (wife, goblins, any children that might spring up...)**

**Anyways... let me know what you think... if you want either (or both) of those options to happen in any sort of a timely manner, I shall need to start writing now. ;)**

**-Reese**


	17. In Which Crimes Are Punished

**Hi.... my pen-name is Tears of Reese, and I... am not an owner of _Labyrinth_.... *spattered clapping echoes in the background*  
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Chapter 16**

With Nivienne's recovery, life in the Labyrinth was slowly returning to normal. Though still a little tired, the Goblin Queen immediately returned to her duties, leaving Jareth to deal with the other Fae Lords and the various political struggles regarding Morgaine's upcoming trial. With his wife awake and obviously well on her way to a full recovery, Jareth's moods had improved dramatically and life in the castle and in the Goblin City became much more pleasant.

Once again, both monarchs could usually be found in the Library, each perusing various scrolls and pieces of parchment. Wert and Snerb were never far from the Majesties' sides, constantly popping in and out, delivering letters to and from and throughout the Labyrinth.

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Jareth could not sleep.

The summer night was far too hot and his mind was too preoccupied to succumb to slumber just yet. After tossing and turning well into the night, the restless Goblin King got up and dressed. He sat in his library for a while, attempting to finish reading the latest Border reports while waiting for sleep to find him. Finally, completely exasperated with his insomnia, Jareth wrote a swift note and left it by Nivienne's bedside. Giving his sleeping wife a light kiss on the forehead, he strode to the window, opened it, and leapt out, shedding his Fae form for that of a barn owl.

When even the cool rushing of the night breeze failed to quiet his thoughts, Jareth sighed in frustrated resignation. He had questions. And the only way he was going to get any answers and any sleep was to go ask them to the right person.

Changing course, the Goblin King flew off into the night, heading for the Moonglade.

He arrived just after the dawn. Touching down just outside the town, Jareth resumed his Fae form and walked slowly towards the Palace. When he arrived, he was surprised to see a servant standing just outside the door looking decidedly confused and uncomfortable. As soon as the servant caught sight of him, her face lit up in a relieved smile as she hurried down the steps to greet him.

"Good morning, Your Majesty. Her Majesty, the Queen told me to wait for you. She said you'd be arriving any minute and that I was to tell you that she was in the gardens. Would you like me to take you to her?"

Stunned that his surprise visit was completely expected, Jareth merely nodded and allowed the girl to usher him to the Royal Gardens. With a curtsy, the girl hurried back to her duties, leaving Jareth to roam the gardens himself. He saw Lessa at once, sitting under a green and silver canopy under a majestic silver-veined willow. Lessa smiled warmly as he approached and poured him a steaming cup of spiced cider. Handing it to him with a nod, she beckoned for him to take a seat across from her on a padded silver chair.

"Good morning to you, my young son-in-law. You are earlier than I expected."

"You knew I was coming, then?" Jareth could not help but sound incredulous.

"Oh yes." Lessa chuckled. "As soon as you stopped fretting about our Nivienne, I knew you would want some answers as to what she did and why her father and I did not seem to be as shocked as the rest of the family."

Jareth merely waited, sipping his cider. Lessa smiled at her disheveled son-in-law and, taking a sip from her own cup, began her tale.

"It is rather simple. Everyone with Elven blood has a prophecy said over him on the day he (or she) comes into the world – a first gift, if you will. Let us just say our daughters were given two separate halves of the same prophecy… it just took a while to understand the roles they had to play. Towards the end… it all became devastatingly clear." Sadness crept into the Elvenqueen's tone.

"Our first daughter's prophecy was a grim one. I shall only tell you part, for it is unwise to entrust a full prophecy to anyone.

_A rolling plague,  
And Nightmares come  
Power, corrupting,  
Overtakes one.  
Madness creeping on stealthy wings,  
Darkness calls;  
Its claws extend,  
Jealousy stirs;  
Resentment brings  
A burning hatred and unhappy end._

"The rest of the prophecy was equally dark and far more ambiguous. Needless to say, Gwidon and I were disturbed, but she was such a happy baby, that we decided to watch and wait and pray that the prophecy - in whatever form it would choose - did not come to pass. However, as she grew older, we saw her tendencies to flaunt power and privilege unwisely and unkindly.

A few years later, Nivienne was born. Her prophecy brought us hope.

_A light one to call it,  
For a dark one to banish,  
A Wyldfae given;  
The Darkness will vanish.  
A ray of Hope to shatter Night  
Darkness called,  
Darkness cowed,  
Burning brightly,  
So soars the Light  
To purge away the Evil's shroud._

"There was more, equally confusing… Unlike Morgaine's prophecy, Nivienne's made absolutely no sense to us. Still, Nivienne's sunny nature and kindness grew as she did. In light of the two prophecies, and by the actions and attitudes of our respective offspring, we decided to give the duties of eldest daughter to her, instead of her sister. We felt that she would use that power more wisely than her eldest sister would."

Lessa stopped and stared bleakly into her cup.

"And so we awakened Morgaine's resentment."

Jareth noted the sadness and doubt clouding his mother-in-law's tone.

"You and Gwidon cannot blame yourselves."

"Yet I cannot help but wonder… what would've happened had we allowed Morgaine to retain her privileges as the eldest… would that have killed the jealousy and resentment that caused her to bring the Darkness down upon us…"

"If I may venture an opinion…" Jareth swirled the last of his cider around in the bottom of his cup. "… a prophesy has never been successfully averted… maybe… most likely… Morgaine would have found another reason, whether it be jealousy over her little sister being more well-liked and respected for her kind nature or not being content to remain just the Goblin Queen…. I believe Morgaine's destiny would have fulfilled itself no matter what you did."

Lessa reached over and patted her son-in-law's hand.

"I thank you, Jareth. That is comforting to hear… though… in a way… it is disheartening for a mother to think that her child is utterly evil…"

"Not totally evil, Lessa… circumstances just played out so that there was no chance for her better nature to shine through…"

Lessa's eyes filled with tears, despite her best efforts, and both Fae just sat there quietly. Whatever the reason for Morgaine's betrayal – fate, choice, or otherwise - it was a bitter draught to swallow, and no amount of supposing could make it any easier for a mother's heart to bear.

Finally, in an effort to distract Lessa and take her mind off her tears, Jareth ventured another question.

"But how did you know what Nivienne needed to do? She told me about the Song and your hints…" Jareth tried not to be annoyed that Lessa had been the one to plant the idea in his wife's head. So far, all his attempts had failed.

Lessa must have caught some of his disgruntlement, because she chuckled.

" '_A Wyldfae given_…' that line resonated with me. My Wyldfae magic only manifested in small ways, so I realized that I was not the Wyldfae in the prophecy. But my youngest always possessed powerful magics, healing especially. Once I realized that she had the potential to actually use Wyldfae Songs, I began to teach them to her. I included Morgaine in the lessons in an attempt to encourage the sisters to bond over something shared."

Jareth nodded thoughtfully.

"And so when the time came, you merely reminded Nivienne of the correct Song and prayed that she'd figure out the rest…"

"Just so, my son-in-law, just so."

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Jareth made it home around midday. He gracefully landed in his library and switched out of his owl form and looked up. Nivienne stood, arms crossed over her chest, leaning casually against his desk, idly tapping one foot as she stared him. If it weren't for the knowing twinkle in his wife's eyes, Jareth would have thought that he was in trouble.

Walking over, he bent down and gave her a swift peck on the forehead.

"Sorry to leave your window open all night, Pet. Were you cold?"

"No, you're not, and yes, I was." grumbled the petite Goblin Queen, trying to maintain her scowl.

She had to give up the fight, though, as Jareth scooped her up, ignoring her surprised squeak, and twirled her around before plopping down in his chair with her on his lap. Propping his feet up on the desk and leaning back in his chair, Jareth smirked up at his wife as he pulled her down so her cheek rested on his chest.

"Well, we shall have to remedy that…"

Nivienne merely raised an eyebrow, an amused smile tugging at her mouth as she nestled into the hollow of her husband's shoulder.

"And how do you propose this?"

"Owls are nocturnal, Love. We are going to take a nice nap here in the sun. It'll warm you right up."

With that, Jareth closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around his wife as she squirmed into a comfortable position. Both monarchs began to doze off, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere while it lasted.

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Finally, the day of Morgaine's trial arrived.

One by one, the Fae Lords arrived and took their high seats in the round Hearing Chamber. On a lower level, closer to the floor, sat Aiden, Alec and his brothers, and a few other Fae. Nivienne and Jareth were some of the first to arrive, alongside the Elven rulers and the Dwarf King. After every last Lord was seated, the Oracle entered and majestically took his seat at the head of the chamber.

"Bring in the Dark Witch." The old centaur's voice rang through the chamber.

Shackled at both her wrists and ankles, the eldest of Gwidon's daughters shuffled to the center of the chamber, a guard's spear-point pressed to her back. At the Oracle's nod, the guard moved back, leaving Morgaine alone in the center of the chamber.

One at a time, each of the thirteen Fae Lords pressed a glowing crystal on the armrest of their chairs. Power shot down to where Morgaine was standing, encircling her and confining her in a translucent, shimmering cylinder of magic. The Elven girl glared defiantly at everyone, her red eyes lingering longest on her parents and her sister.

Nivienne couldn't help but pity her older sister. The once beautiful princess was completely ruined. The Dark Marks were permanently etched into mottled skin and her long blond hair had become thin and lank and was streaked with faded stripes of red and purple. She was bent double, like an old woman crippled with bad joints and her elegant hands had become spotted and knarled. Bloodshot red eyes stared out of sagging, graying flesh while chapped, cracking lips peeled back in a hateful sneer to reveal rotting, yellowed teeth.

The Oracle raised his staff and began to speak.

"Morgaine Aulaybran of the Moonglade, you have been charged with Treason of the gravest kind. You summoned forth Darkness with the intent of stealing your parents' throne, usurping their power, and enslaving the rest of the Faefolk. Your actions endangered every single Realm in the Underground and have resulted in copious losses of life from every Fae nation as they fought to contain the menace you summoned forth."

The Oracle paused. Morgaine showed no sign of remorse. Glaring up at the old Fae, the Witch spat contemptuously. The centaur continued.

"You have been brought before this Tribunal to determine your fate. If there are any mitigating circumstances for your actions… reveal them now, that we may lighten your sentence and work towards healing you."

Morgaine's venomous stare did not change. Drawing back her lips and baring her rotted teeth in a ghastly smile, the Dark Witch locked eyes with the Oracle.

"Darkness take you, Old Man. Darkness take you and rot your flesh from your bones and consume your soul!"

The ancient Centaur sighed.

"Very well. As the Dark Witch shows no signs of remorse, she forfeits all rights to clemency and healing. She will now face the punishment set forth by the Fae Lords of Old.  
Our most ancient laws decree that any Dark Witch, unable or unwilling to accept our mercy, shall have her power Sealed and her Name stripped from her."

A gasp rose from a few of the Fae. Even Morgaine looked horrified. Such a punishment was worse than death, for the recipient would be forced to live a fragmented existence, trapped in the aftermath of her crime, locked within her own mind for all eternity.

"If any wish to contest this ruling, do so now, or forever be silent."

No one spoke. Gwidon, Lessa, and Nivienne all looked sadly down upon Morgaine, while Jareth and the boys just stared stonily ahead. Not a single objection was raised.

"So be it. You are Morgaine Aulaybran no longer; that name is forever forbidden to you."

With that, the Oracle stepped forward and placed his weathered palm on Morgaine's withered forehead. The chamber quivered with a silent clap of thunder as the ancient centaur brought forth his magic – a magic older even than that of the Wyldfae and far more powerful.

_She felt as soon as the Oracle entered her mind. His alien presence was as calm and powerful as the sea. Still, it seemed as if a storm was brewing, for the power began to roil inside her, stirred up by a fierce desire for justice and retribution. Royal blue fire suddenly burst out behind her eyes, swiftly flooding her body and overwhelming her senses. It ate through her mind and burrowed deep into her subconscious. Sheer terror overcame her as she finally realized what was about to happen to her. That was the last conscious thought she ever had, for at that moment of horrible realization, blinding pain tore through her body as her name was literally ripped from her soul._

The Oracle stepped back as Morgaine let out a shriek of agony and collapsed to the ground.

For a long while, she lay still in a heap of tattered black robes. Finally, she stirred and sat up. Those once hateful red eyes were completely blank, utterly devoid of any feeling or thought. Blinking, she looked around in confusion.

_Where was she? What was she? A person once… she thought… she wasn't sure. It didn't matter anyway… did it? Fragments of shattered memory flitted about like bats. Biting her! She swatted at one, a feeble attempt. It eluded her faltering grasp._

A strange mewling noise began to issue from her mouth as she scrabbled about the floor on all fours.

_Darkness. All around her. So slimy and cold. She was inundated with it, consumed by it. Make it go away! NO! Make it stay... it was hers! Deeper and deeper, deeper and deeper she sunk, murky blackness oozing and roiling around her. So nice. So warm. Her blanket._

She stopped in front of the Oracle and cocked her head to one side as insane giggles joined those pathetic mews and whimpers. A small string of drool began to dribble from her mouth as she sat there, limbs splayed askew around her.

_Voices. Soft. Seductive. Beckoning. _Come with us. You belong with us_, they hiss. Sharp, thorny claws reach out to grab her, pulling her farther down into the Dark. NO! Let go! They're hurting her! Fire! Terror! Hot ash and the smell of fear! Black, oily blood covers her. It gets in her eyes and fills her mouth when she opens it to scream. _Ours_, the voices hiss. _Ours forever_._

The insane giggles intensified into shrieking hysteric laughter. But soon even that level of consciousness died and the elven girl lapsed into silence, rocking herself back and forth as she sat huddled in the middle of the chamber, hands clutching spasmodically at her hair.

Unable to stand the pitiful, repulsive wretch that the once beautiful elven princess had become, the Fae Lords rose and began to hurry out of the chamber, casting horrified or pitying glances over their shoulders. Only a few looked on what was left of the Dark Witch with satisfaction.

The Elven Royal family was the last to leave. All of them stared, horrified and saddened at what their kinswoman had become. Nivienne buried her head in her husband's shoulder as they walked out, while Lessa watched her eldest daughter with tear-filled eyes, clutching Gwidon's hand as she wept for her child. Even Aiden and the boys, despite their anger and sense of betrayal, couldn't help but shudder in pity as they left the chamber.

Justice had been done.

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**A/N: Finally! Morgaine gets it... I hope her punishment was cathartic enough... I have a bit of an evil streak and thought that death would've been too kind a punishment... eternal madness seemed more fitting...**

**Many thanks to _Buffy Sparrow, MentalDeath, _and _ notwritten _for their kind reviews! Love ya all!  
**

**So... as this little tale is winding up, I have two more brewing in my head... but, if I post them, the updates will be far less frequent than the updates for this one were (I had already written the whole thing and re-read/edited it several times before I even made an account). Since any other stories would still be being written as I post the chapters, they would take longer in coming.**

**I had mentioned a possible companion piece - _Tales From the Silver Border_ - I'm thinking that one will explore the adventures that the boys and Jareth had (I alluded to them in Ch. 7, actually - not 6 as I said last time). It seems to me that Jareth is proud enough and the boys are over-protective enough, that the relatively strong bond of trust they have would have needed time to grow. So, enter Wyldfae Tribes, Dragons, Fiends, and mayhem...**

**I had also mentioned a possible direct sequel - _Thirteen Hours_ - This one would tackle Jareth & Nivienne's children. Basically, they take on a runner and we watch as they all play cat & mouse. I have no idea what kind of danger/drama I would put in... so any imput there would be helpful...**

**So... yeah... let me know what you think of those alternatives, and I'll start working on the more popular of the two.  
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	18. Epilogue

**For the Last Time.... I do not own _Labyrinth_.... even though I have wished and whined and implored the Powers That Be.... all to no avail.... I shall have to content myself with owning Nivienne, her family, and the Moonglade.... almost as cool, I suppose...  
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**Epilogue**

The Castle Beyond the Goblin City had never been so crowded nor so busy. All throughout its winding corridors bustled servants, elves, and goblins, all waiting for news of their queen.

Up in his library, Jareth paced in a steady circle around his desk, hands clasped behind his back, casting dark, brooding glances towards the large double doors that separated him from his wife.

Behind him were the four elven princes and their father; Tyr was prowling amidst the bookshelves, restlessly flipping through book after book, discarding each one within a few moments of picking it up. The twins were pacing as nervously as Jareth, pausing only to mutter at each other when one would get in the other's way. Alec leaned tiredly against the fireplace, fiddling anxiously with one of his leather gloves, his eyes following the twins and Jareth.

Gwidon alone seemed calm, sipping at a glass of mead, watching his son-in-law in amusement.

Suddenly, Aiden came barreling through the open window in a flurry of red feathers, transforming from hawk to elf before his feet had even touched the ground. As he stumbled to regain his balance, he asked in a breathless voice,

"Did I miss it? Is she alright?"

"No word yet," growled Jareth.

"Mum won't let us in…" grumbled Cayden.

Just then, a strangled scream pierced the air, causing all seven men to freeze. Jareth turned to glare at his father-in-law.

"You've been through this six times… does this always happen?"

Gwidon laughed outright.

"Depends… Lessa screamed louder and –"

Another yell cut through the room, followed by a lengthy string of very un-ladylike phrases. Gwidon turned to glare at Aiden and the twins.

"I'm assuming she learned all those from you three…"

The boys had the sense to look somewhat abashed.

Yet another yell, this one joined by weaker, higher-pitched cries, echoed through the library. Soon, the mid-wife came bustling in, wiping off her hands on her white apron. Jareth stopped his pacing and fixed the old Fae with a dark stare. The mid-wife chuckled, shaking her head at his antics. The husbands always put up such a fuss the first time.

"The Elvenqueen says that you may come in now, Your Majesty."

Without a word, Jareth vanished from the library, followed by a small stampede of elven males. Jareth hurried ahead of them into his wife's chambers and firmly shut the door, nearly hitting Cayden in the face as he did so. The message was clear: he wanted to be the first to see his wife – _alone_.

As soon as he entered Nivienne's room, he felt his heart catch in his throat. His little wife looked worn to the bone. Her dark curls were limp and stuck to her pale forehead. A sheen of sweat beaded her skin as her chest rose and fell heavily with her labored breathing. But she looked tremendously pleased with herself as she smiled up at her anxious husband, eyes bright.

Jareth was at her bedside in an instant, stroking the top of the hand that wore the wedding ring he had given her. Nivienne's smile was radiant as she stared lovingly up at her husband. She gently pushed at one of his shoulders, chuckling as she whispered softly,

"I'm alright, Jareth… I'll not break… wouldn't you like to meet your children?"

"… _Children?_… As in… more than… more than _one_…?"

Lessa, who had been standing with her back to the couple, now turned, grinning from ear to pointed ear and cradling a tiny bundle of soft cloth in the crook of each arm. Jareth's eyes bulged as he stared at them.

Lessa just laughed at him.

"Well, don't just stare at me, Jareth. Take them and see your son and daughter for yourself."

With that, the Elvenqueen gently deposited her two burdens into Jareth's arms.

The stunned Goblin King could only stare at his two offspring in wonder. Both were perfect, from the tips of their tiny pointed ears down to their ten pink wiggling toes. His daughter had a fine covering of wispy white-blond hair on her head, while her brother showed signs of having inherited his mother's black curls. As if on cue, both of them opened their eyes and stared at their father, curious. Both had his mismatched eyes – one, aqua-blue, the other, a hazel-brown.

A slow grin overtook his face as he turned to his wife. Nivienne smiled back as she gently took their son from her husband's arms.

"What shall we name them, Beloved?"

The Goblin King's eyes twinkled as he looked down at his little daughter, fast asleep in his arms.

"We should call this one Jareth… she looks like a Jareth…"

"Jareth…" Nivienne couldn't decide whether to growl or laugh. Trust her husband to joke about this.

Both elven women looked at each other, shaking their heads, before beginning to chuckle helplessly. Jareth smirked at the two of them before looking back down at his infant daughter. In her sleep, she had wrapped one tiny hand around her father's finger. He smiled as he murmured,

" Gweneal Neve-Elwen…."

Nivienne smiled lovingly up at her husband.

"Blessed white angel…. A fitting name for her, my husband…" She turned to look at her son. "And this little one shall be Brenden Keir-Elwen… my little dark-haired princeling…" Nivienne broke off with an exhausted yawn.

Carefully depositing his daughter into her cradle, Jareth gently took little Brenden from the crook of his mother's arm and put him into the cradle next to his sister. Half-turning, he saw Lessa give him a truly happy smile before softly exiting the room. Cayden's protests at being left out swelled briefly and were quickly muffled by Lessa hurriedly closing the door before she began berating her son.

Jareth slowly lowered himself onto the bed alongside his wife, careful not to jar her. Nivienne had drifted off into an exhausted slumber almost as soon as he had taken Brenden from her. Smiling contently to himself, Jareth rested his cheek against hers and allowed himself to relax.

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A sharp cry interrupted Jareth's rest. Hurrying over to the cradle before the cry could rouse his still sleeping wife, Jareth peeked in to find both his offspring awake and annoyed. They quieted as soon as they saw her father, Gweneal even going so far as to gurgle happily at him.

Lifting them out of the cradle, Jareth gently rocked and bounced them as he padded quietly about the room. Once the twins were content and dozing against his chest, the Goblin King quietly made his way out of the room and into his library.

Nothing could disguise the pride he felt as he displayed his children to their grandfather and uncles. With a resigned sigh (openly wincing when Cayden and Gavyn exchanged those identical smiles that meant trouble for everyone involved as they bounced their niece and nephew), he allowed the boys to pass the infants around, only relaxing when they were safely in the arms of their doting grandfather (Jareth was pretty sure that, having raised six children to adulthood, Gwidon wouldn't drop them or damage them… but then he looked at Cayden and Gavyn again…).

"They have your eyes, my son" smiled Gwidon, tenderly stroking the dark curls of his grandson while allowing his mischievous granddaughter to tug at his sleeves. "And their mother's temperament…"

Here, all the Fae laughed, even Jareth, though he had to mentally suppress a shudder as he thought of all the havoc those two would cause as they grew older (especially if their twin uncles decided to 'mentor' them… and if Jareth knew those two, he knew that nothing would appeal to them more than the idea of having inside agents to torment their brother-in-law).

A feral grin lit the Goblin King's features as he anticipated the ensuing chaotic years with something akin to paternal pride. Yes… he truly was looking forward to watching his children grow up.

**The End**

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A/N: Well... thank you to all my lovely readers and reviewers... _notwritten, Gem of the Stars, MentalDeath, wackydreams, Buffy Sparrow, LadySparrowJack, _****_Michi Yuy, Princess of the Fae, _and anyone else I have failed to name... you all are amazing!**

**As it seems that the majority of you want a companion piece rather than a sequel, I have started working on _Tales From the Silver Border_... but it may be some months before it is posted...**

**Another side note... when I write a stroy, I usually write up a list of the characters, what their names mean, and a list of definitions for any non-English words I use... would anyone be interested in me adding that list as an appendix, or no? Just a thought...**

**Well, thank you again, Oh Wonderful Audience of Mine!! Hopefully I'll be able to have a few chapters up for _TFtSB_ soon...  
**


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